


Nothing Ever Ends

by IMtrinity



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Protective Steve Rogers, Psychological Trauma, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-08 06:48:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 68,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21471784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IMtrinity/pseuds/IMtrinity
Summary: After the events on the Helicarrier, Steve spends a year searching for the Winter Soldier. And then one day, a ghost from his past finds him instead.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 91
Kudos: 182





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after The Winter Soldier. Not Civil War compliant. Also, for the purpose of this fic, the location of Avengers Tower is still in Manhattan, vs upstate NY. All mistakes are my own. As always, comments are appreciated!

Steve sighs, not for the last time. He’s exhausted in a way he’s never been, even during the war. Mentally, physically, it’s wearing him down, though he’ll never admit to it. A moment of reprieve. He sits on a Brooklyn subway, the Q train, as it speeds towards Manhattan. Sam is half asleep by his side. If Steve is this fucked up, he can’t imagine how Sam’s still breathing and moving.

They’ve finally returned to the US after a round- the- world trip. Or at least the less conspicuous parts of the world. The parts that men like him have no business going to unless they come to look for trouble. Well, he’s not looking for any more trouble. He’s just looking for one man.

A ghost. That’s what it feels like they’re looking for. It’s a fucking joke. The file Natasha gave him was helpful insofar as he now had some clue. A destination. A location. That’s where the intel ended. 

Moscow, Sudan, Siberia, Berlin, Reykjavik. All in the file. All false leads. There are more. They've been to towns Steve’s never heard of before. Paved roads then ended up dirt roads to dead ends. All the tech they took with them proved useless. Empty buildings, dilapidated warehouses, old Hydra bases. Not even a fucking footprint.

He grits his teeth as the train passes through Canal Street, and an unbidden memory surfaces. He tamps it down. Not a great time to go down memory lane. Sam’s head is now on Steve’s shoulder and not for the first time Steve feels the guilt rise up, burning through him. He hates that he’s dragged Sam into this. But Sam never complains. Just asks what the next town is. The next country. The next dead end.

***

They finally arrive at their stop and Steve shakes Sam awake. Bleary eyed he nods and follows Steve out. The air is at once arid and putrid, and Steve’s somehow missed the summer funk of the city, the sweat and surliness of the people living here. He shifts his baseball cap so it sits lower on his face. He hates getting recognized. Especially after everything that’s happened.

Avengers Tower- formerly Stark Tower- rises like a monolith in the middle of the block and Steve makes his way around back. He takes out his keycard given to him by Tony years ago. He flashes it against the back door and it pings open, a security camera above them blinking green.

Sam stifles a yawn as they step into the elevator and Steve hits the key for floor 72. His ears pop as they ascend. For some reason he’s nervous and irritated. He hates asking anyone else for help, but he doesn’t know what to do at this point. He’s out of options and giving up isn’t one of them.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Sam asks him for the tenth time. Steve sighs. “Not really. I’d rather involve as less people as possible. But I’m out of options, Sam.”

“There are other places we haven’t checked yet. Hell, places here in the US even.”

Steve purses his lips. “I’m tired, Sam. All we’re doing is searching for a needle in a haystack. We need better intel.” Sam looks at Steve, eyes hard. “Have you ever thought of the possibility that he just doesn’t want to be found, and nothing we do will change that?”

Steve has thought of that possibility. Many times. Daily. But his stubbornness knows no bounds. Sam sighs and leaves it alone. They arrive at the correct floor and a strange AI is waiting for them.

“Welcome Captain Rogers, and Mister Wilson. Mr. Stark is in his laboratory waiting for you. Please follow me.” Sam gives Steve a look and they follow the gender-less AI down the hall. They pass through glass doors, some with digital security, some not. Steve’s been here before, but it looks like Tony’s upgraded the security a bit.

The AI leaves them by the door to the lab and Steve can see Tony inside. He steels his resolve and they go inside. Tony is wearing protective goggles and Steve doesn’t want to get too close to whatever he’s experimenting on. He waits, hands in his pockets.

“Be with you in a moment, gentlemen,” Tony announces without looking up. Sam is eyeing everything in the room with a mixture of curiosity and awe. Steve forgets that Sam has never met Tony before.

Tony tears off his goggles, seemingly pleased with...whatever, and claps his hands once as he heads over to them. Hand out in greeting, he smiles wide at Steve. “Rogers, always a pleasure, though not too sure about today. And you must be Bird Man,” he directs that at Sam. Sam eyes him levelly, and shakes his hand. “Sam. Wilson. Nice to finally meet you, Mr. Stark.”

“Tony, please. Welcome to my home, any friend of Steve’s yada yada yada.” He turns away and gestures for them to follow. More glass doors and endless hallways and they are soon situated in a modern but comfortable sitting area, cold drinks in hand.

“I must say, it was a surprise hearing from you, Steve. You’re not one to pay me a visit unless you need something desperately.”

Steve purses his lips, hating the accurate description. “It’s always good to see an old friend, Tony. But yes, I do in fact need your help, if you’re willing.”

Tony eyes him gleefully, trying to puzzle him out. He taps his fingers repeatedly on the leather armchair he’s seated in and then flicks his wrist dismissively. “This is going to be good, I just know it,” he states with a wide, arrogant grin.

Steve is already regretting coming here.

***

Tony stares out at the Manhattan skyline as the sun slowly sets in the distance. His hands are clasped behind his back and Steve watches him nervously. He’s just finished apprising Tony of events of the last year, leaving out minor details, but for the most part, Tony has everything he needs to go by.

“I, of course read the whole story,” Tony starts as he finally turns away from the window. He sits on the arm of his chair, facing Sam and Steve. “Natasha briefed me, and well, it was basically all over the news. Still is. Especially as the search goes on for your rogue friend. The Winter Soldier. Has a nice ring to it.” Steve clenches and unclenches his hand. 

“Will you help us or not?” He knows he’s being rude, but he can’t always take Stark’s theatrics. He suddenly thinks this was a mistake, coming here.

“I’m not sure how I can, Rogers. You have the most important file on the guy. If you haven't tracked him down by now, he’s either dead or doesn’t want to come out of hiding. Not that I blame him, with the whole world basically salivating over him. I did some digging too, you know. Mostly for curiosity sake. Natasha said you were close once. I wanted to see what sort of guy would turn Rogers rogue.”

Steve glares at him, but Stark continues. “Obviously there’s not much, but the leaked files that I looked at was some serious shit. Decades of murders, assassinations. Disappearances. All committed by one man. Your old war buddy.”

Steve doesn’t rise to the bait. “You know it’s more complicated than that, Tony. Not everything is as it seems.” Tony sighs dramatically. “You spoke to him for all of five minutes, after which he used you as a punching bag and almost let you drown.”

“But he didn’t. He pulled me from that river. Whatever Hydra did to him, whatever they made him do- because that’s the only way I see this happening to Bucky- I want to see if it can be unmade. I want to find him and ask him why he rescued me when he could have completed his mission and left me to die.”

Tony eyes Steve speculatively. “And you think it’s going to be that easy? Do you think he will suddenly remember you and welcome you with open arms?”

Steve clenches his teeth. “No,” he grinds out. “But I thought he was dead for seventy years and then I find out he’s been tortured and brainwashed by Hydra all that time. How would you feel if that were your friend?”

“Curious.”

They watch each other silently from opposite sides of the room. Finally, Tony sighs, and gets up. “Very well, I’ll see if there’s anything I can use to potentially track him. Facial recognition tech, fingerprint identification. I’m sure I have something.”

“Thank you, Tony, really. There’s no one else I can trust with this information.” 

Tony nods like he already is quite aware. “No need for thanks yet. If we are indeed hunting for the world’s greatest spy and assassin, it might take some time. In the meantime, you are both welcome to stay here for as long as you need to. Steve, you have a room already. Wilson, there’s about ten other guest suites to choose from. Now, if you will both excuse me, I have dinner plans with Pepper.” He flashes them a grin as he departs.

Sam turns to Steve, incredulous. “I mean, people talk all the time, and of course I’ve seen his interviews, but to see it in person…”

“I know,” sighs Steve. “Believe me, I’m well aware of the kind of guy Tony is. But it’s mostly all for show. He’s really a good guy. I wouldn’t be here if I knew he was gonna say no.”

Sam eyes Steve before shrugging. “You’re the boss. Now, can we go to my room so I can sleep for a week?”

***

Steve paces aimlessly around his room. It’s dark out, and he has just a minor desk lamp turned on. He prefers the dark lately; it’s soothing, easier to hide away. His nerves haven’t settled since his meeting with Tony and again he wonders if he made a mistake confiding in him. Tony’s an arrogant asshole but his intelligence and skill can’t be overlooked. And right now, Steve needs both of it.

His heart lurches in his chest uncomfortably. It’s been doing that a lot lately. Ever since. He shuts his eyes, but he still can’t block out his memories. He relives them daily, obsessively. It’s all he has now until he finds the real thing.

Bucky on the highway. Bucky’s cold, vacant expression. Bucky, who was supposed to be dead. Steve fucking watched him die, falling, falling. The image is seared into his brain. But no, there’s Bucky again, on the Helicarrier. Bucky with a gun pointed at him, unrecognizable.

Steve’s wounds, pulsating and bleeding. But nothing compared to the rage and ferocity on Bucky’s face. That was not his friend. How could that be his Bucky? He gave up. At that moment he didn’t care whether Bucky killed him or not. He was just glad he got the chance to see him again, one last time.

Then...he was floating, he was dead. He was ok with that. But he had woken up in the hospital and everything came swimming back. He was told there were witnesses. They saw him dragged out of the Potomac by a man with a metal arm. Bucky had saved him. When everyone left he broke down, a shuddering, painful wreck. 

His body a mess, his heart torn apart, but none of it mattered. Bucky had saved him. Bucky was still in there somewhere. And he vowed to find him, no matter how long it took. 

Steve is a million stories up, nothing but dark sky around him, but beneath, the city lives and breathes. He places a palm against the glass and contemplates a walk. He really should rest though. He hasn’t properly slept in days. He sighs and plops down on the bed, grabbing his dusty and ragged backpack.

Inside is a couple of guns, ammo, and the file on Bucky. He opens the battered folder. A grainy black and white photo of Bucky stares back at him. It’s the only photo he has in this world, aside from the ones in history books and the museum. His heart shatters every time he looks at it. 

He flips the photo over, gazing at the various other bits of information. Its unfortunately all in Russian and though he can speak a few words, he can’t read any of it. Luckily Natasha translated as much as she could before he and Sam set out on their pointless endeavor. 

The information is so limited, but it still makes Steve’s blood boil. He’s read it over a million times already. He knows all about the serum, and experiments. The locations of different Hydra bases where Bucky was kept or taken to. What’s missing is timelines, dates, missions. Basically everything important.

Steve rakes his hands through his scalp in frustration. He drops the files on the bed and grabs the TV remote. He flips listlessly through the channels until he falls asleep.

He wakes up to the sound of soft knocking. He looks around and realizes he passed out still dressed in the clothes he arrived in, and he badly needs a shower. He gets off the bed and pads across the room to open the door. It’s only Sam, of course, but Steve can see a frown between his brows.

“What’s wrong?” he immediately asks.

“Nothing major. Just got a call about my nephew. Got into some trouble back in DC. Idiot.” He sighs. “I think I need to go and diffuse the situation.”

“Of course. Sam, you’re not superglued to me. You have your own life to live and don’t need my permission to do or go anywhere.”

“I know that, Cap. But I promised I would help you, and I still intend to do that. I just need a few days.”

“Take all the time you need. Family is important.” Sam gives him an appreciative smile, and smacks his shoulder in farewell.

“Stay safe, Cap.”

“Sam.”

He goes back inside, suddenly more tired than when he went to sleep. He knows he was running his body ragged. Super Serum or no, he is slowly falling apart. He shrugs off his clothes and goes to shower.

***

He doesn’t bother to stay at Stark Tower to eat, even though he knows the kitchens are always ridiculously stocked. He wants a proper New York breakfast. Donning jeans and a simple black tee and his trusty baseball cap he takes the elevator down to the garage level and texts Tony.

** _Can I borrow a car?_ **

** _Pick one. Your fingerprints will suffice._ **

Steve grins and shakes his head. The doors open and he’s standing in Tony’s car museum. Row after row of brand new and antique sports cars. Steve mentally scoffs at the sheer amount of wealth just in this room alone. It’s mind boggling. And way too ostentatious for Steve. He walks around until he finds something not so flashy. A black Tesla Model S.

He places his fingers against the door handle, and it opens up for him. He’s almost too large for the car, but after a few adjustments, it’ll do. With a push of a button the engine purrs and he can’t help feeling just a bit giddy. 

He carefully maneuvers the car out of the garage and into the hustle and bustle of the city. He drives around for a while, until he’s in the village. There he spots a decent looking bagel shop and hops out. He eats at the bar, relishing the poppy seed bagel with cream cheese and lox. Heaven.

He stays for a while, reading the morning paper, grimacing at the horrible news all around the world. So much war and corruption. So much hate. It’s enough to make anyone insane. He grabs a coffee to go and drops some bills on the counter. 

Sipping on his coffee he walks the block or so back to the car, eyeing it from a distance. It’s no Harley, but the shiny chrome and tinted windows is a sleek touch. He might even get used to it. He unlocks the door, and eyes on the coffee so as not to spill it, ungracefully plops into his seat.

And he should have noticed right away. Should have fucking sensed it. Fucking tinted windows. He freezes as he immediately catches a glance at his rearview mirror. At who’s sitting in the back, gun pointed in his direction.

“Shut the door and keep forward.”

Steve does as he’s told, his heart hammering. “Bucky.”

“Shut up and drive.”

He starts the engine, his brain in overdrive. “Where are we going?” Bucky doesn’t answer for a minute and Steve doesn’t dare make any sudden movements. 

“You have an apartment. In Brooklyn.”

Yes, he does. And no one but Nick Fury and maybe Natasha knows that. He looks into the mirror, meets Bucky’s steel eyes. 

“Drive.”


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments appreciated!

They drive in silence, though Steve’s certain Bucky can hear the hammering in his chest. His hands luckily don’t shake too much on the steering wheel. Every now and then Steve chances a glance in the mirror, but Bucky chooses to ignore him. He can hear him toying with the gun, clicking the safety on and off. He licks his lips.

“How did you even get in this car?” Bucky’s eyes meet his in a look that would curdle milk. Steve turns his attention back to the road. The traffic is awful and the pace slow going. Honestly, he’s more impressed Bucky even fits in the back, but he can tell it’s not the most comfortable seating back there.

“Why have you been following me?” Bucky finally breaks the silence and Steve’s breath is cut short. “You knew? You knew we were looking for you?” Again, that look. “If you knew, why did you never… why didn’t you reach out to us? Jesus, Bucky, it’s been a year. I’ve been fucking everywhere.” Bucky doesn’t respond. Steve’s hands clench on the steering wheel, clammy and uncomfortable. 

Steve takes the tunnel, because there is always traffic on the Brooklyn bridge and he just wants to get the fuck out of this car already. Although he’s terrified of what comes next. He finally turns on his street. A quiet, quaint area lined with pre-war Brownstones. He luckily finds a spot on the street and turns off the engine. 

“Get out. Slowly. And no sudden movements.”

“Jesus, Bucky, I’m not gonna-”

“Just be quiet and get out.”

Fuck. Steve is sweating and his head is pounding but he remembers his now cold coffee and opens the door. He steps out, slowly shutting the door, and waits. After almost a minute, Bucky makes his way out to the sidewalk, backpack in hand, gun nowhere to be seen. But Steve’s not an idiot. He knows Bucky doesn’t need a gun to accomplish whatever he chooses to do.

“Go.”

Steve walks a few paces, Bucky close, but not too close behind him. He grabs his keys from his pocket and it’s odd that he even brought them with him, given his stay at Tony’s. But, old habits, he guesses. With surprisingly steady fingers he unlocks the door and Bucky is inside before Steve even registers what’s happened. 

They quietly walk up to the second floor and Steve unlocks the door to the apartment. It’s strange, he idly thinks. He’s never brought anyone here.

Before the lights are even on, Bucky has his gun out and trained on Steve. “Really?” he asks, incredulous. “You know I’m unarmed and I’m not gonna do a damn thing to you. Can you not point that thing at me?” He knows he is being bold, but the sight of his old friend with a gun pointed at him is making him a bit hysterical, and not in a funny sort of way.

Bucky eventually lowers the weapon, stuffing it inside his back pocket. He removes his ragged baseball cap and a mop of long hair flows out. It’s Steve’s first proper look at him. Bucky’s got dark circles under his eyes like he hasn’t slept in weeks, and his beard is longer than the scruff that Steve had seen on him last time. His hair looks like it needs a good washing and his clothes are dark and rumpled. Bucky’s eyes are cold as steel as he allows the examination.

What he wants to do is go up to him and wrap his arms around him but he’s pretty sure Bucky would snap his neck. They are feet apart, but it might as well be miles. Steve is miserable and guilt-ridden and fucking angry. But he does his best to tamp it all down. That’s not what Bucky needs right now.

He hasn’t set foot in his apartment since after Washington. Since he decided to go chasing after a ghost. Well, looks like the ghost found him, and it’s just beyond surreal to see Bucky in his place. “Do you want to sit down?” he gently asks, indicating the couch nearby.

“What I want is for you to leave me alone, but looks like I’m not gonna get what I want.” The voice is Bucky’s and yet Steve flinches at the sheer vehemence spewing from his mouth. He flounders for a second. Bucky takes the opportunity to get closer, exhuming hostility with each step. Steve holds his ground.

“What do you want from me?” Bucky asks him again, and he is so close all Steve has to do is raise his arm to touch him. But again, he envisions a broken neck…

“You know who I am,” he ventures. He needs to know where he stands with Bucky.

“You’re Steve Rogers. I read about you. In newspapers. At the museum. You’ve been busy.”

“So have you,” Steve blurts out, but Bucky doesn’t bite. He just raises his chin. “Why have you been following me?”

That is a harder question to answer. In his head it was all so pure, so simple. He just wanted his friend back. Wanted to see him, to talk with him, to help him. But now the words all sound futile and insignificant and he’s suddenly certain what he says will depend on if Bucky sticks around or not.

“If you know who I am, you know who I was, and who you were.” Bucky says nothing. Steve goes on. “Look, I know about Hydra, and I know what they did to you-”

“You know _nothing_ about what they did to me,” Bucky snarls, and Steve raises his hands, placating.

“You’re right. I don’t. Not really. But you have to understand something. I watched you fall from a train seventy years ago. I watched you die and suddenly I find out you’re not dead at all. What would you do in my situation?”

“So is this just to satisfy your morbid curiosity?”

“What? Jesus, Buck, no. I just. I just want to talk. I want to help you- if you need it. I want you to trust me.”

“Trust you? I barely know you.”

Steve swallows past the lump quickly forming in his throat. He knew it was a possibility of course. He might have gotten through to Bucky, once. But that doesn’t mean the man remembers everything about him. Still, it stings.

“I understand.” And fuck, nothing further comes as he bows his head in defeat. He is so goddamn tired of everything. He is entirely drained and the adrenaline of finding Bucky in his car is wearing off, and he just wants to crash. But then he hears the sigh.

Bucky moves away from Steve and settles into the couch. Steve’s heart skips a beat because Bucky is not leaving. He watches the other man as he unzips his dark hoodie, revealing a gray tee and the familiar metal arm. Steve can’t help but stare. Bucky sits quietly on the couch, contemplating, and Steve slowly approaches to sit opposite him in the armchair.

“Thank you for not running away,” Steve says. Bucky glances at him. “What would be the point? You’d just come after me again.” Steve doesn’t deny it. “The other guy you’re traveling with, Wilson? Why is he not with you? He’s hardly left your side.”

Steve is silently impressed at Bucky’s intelligence. Also a bit unnerved. “He had a family issue back home. Also, he needed a break.”

Bucky nods. “I read up on him, too. Has some skills. You trust him, obviously. You don’t trust many people, though, do you?”

Once again Steve is struck by the fact that despite the lack of Bucky in his life, the man still seems to know more about him than his own peers. “Yes. Sam is very loyal and a good friend. I’d trust him with my life. It’s...difficult to trust. Especially nowadays. Everything I knew turned out to be a lie. My whole life, technically. Shield. Hydra. All of it. You’re not the only one seeking answers, Bucky.”

“I don’t have any answers for you,” Bucky says bitterly. “They fucked up my brain. I don’t even know what day it is some days. You say you want to help me but I don’t think there’s anything you can do.” Bucky is resigned to this fact, and Steve clenches his fist at the sheer unfairness of this all. 

“Maybe we can help each other,” he finally manages, and Bucky regards him for a long moment.

“Got any food in this place?”

***

Steve doesn’t bother with the car. It would take him twice as long just to find parking. Instead he runs the five blocks around the corner to the local market. He’s not even out of breath as he races inside, grabbing a basket. He throws a few random things inside, as he has absolutely no idea what Bucky likes to eat. Bread, cheese, grapes, beef jerky, jam, chips. He’s not even looking. He just wants to get back already. Really hopes Bucky is still there, waiting.

He pays, grabs the bags, and runs like a maniac back to his apartment. He swears as he drops his keys at the door, can feel the sweat and panic setting in. 

He takes the steps two at a time and pauses at his door, his heart racing. He doesn’t want to scare Bucky by racing in there, so he slowly turns the key, and calmly walks inside.

Bucky is not where Steve left him. The couch is empty, and his eyes do a sweep of the room and find nothing. Resisting the urge to curse loudly, he’s about to call out to Bucky when he smells it. 

It’s faint, but his sense of smell is more keen than most. He approaches the master bedroom, cautiously, curiously. The lights are all off but the double doors to the balcony are wide open, the light pouring in. The sheer curtains flail in the breeze and he can just make out the faint silhouette of Bucky, sitting on the floor of the balcony.

Steve comes closer, knows Bucky can sense him there, and takes in the sight. Bucky’s eyes are on the Brooklyn street and he’s smoking, which is what Steve smelled earlier. He looks down and notices a few squashed butts in an old tin Bucky must’ve found lying around. Steve wasn’t even gone for fifteen minutes. He frowns.

“Hey, Buck, you ok?”

Bucky finishes his cigarette in silence, adds it to the collection in the tin, and stands up. “This is a nice view. It’s quiet. It’s.. familiar.”

“That’s why I chose it. This neighborhood is older than most and it also reminded me of home. I wish I had more time to actually stay here.” Bucky looks at Steve blankly, like he’s not sure what to do with that information. Steve clears his throat. “I brought food.”

Steve lays everything out on the table so Bucky can choose. It’s really nothing all that great and Steve now wishes he ordered take out, something truly delicious, but Bucky just grabs at the pack of cheddar cheese, rips open the packaging and tears into it. 

They sit at the table and Steve watches Bucky as he samples a bit of everything. He seems to like the chips and beef jerky, but doesn’t touch the jam. He eats the grapes one at a time, almost savoring them. Steve doesn’t eat anything. He can’t. His stomach is in knots anyway.

The apartment has, over the course of the day, gotten sweltering. Steve never bothered with air conditioning. When he purchased the place it was still a novel concept to him, and he never had the time. Now he’s regretting it as he is roasting. He wipes at his brow. Bucky doesn’t seem too bothered by the heat.

“So where have you been this whole time,” Steve finally gets the nerve to ask. Bucky doesn’t stop eating.

“Around.”

Steve mentally sighs. If this is the way their conversations are going to go, it’s going to be a while. “Everyone is looking for you.”

Bucky finally looks up. “The world is a big place,” he simply says. “Do you have any water?”

Shit. Steve forgot to pick up drinks at the market. He gets up and grabs a glass from the cabinet and fills it up in the sink. He hands it to Bucky. “Sorry. Next time I’ll grab bottled water, or whatever else you like to drink.”

“I’m not staying.”

Steve’s stomach drops to his feet and he stares dumbly at Bucky. “What? You can’t leave!” And that was clearly the wrong thing to say as Bucky stills and his face goes dark. Steve scrambles to fix this.

“I mean, of course you can go. You can do whatever you want to, it’s just… Damn it, Bucky, I just found you, or actually you found me. Anyway, I just was hoping we could talk for a bit more.”

Bucky drinks his water and carefully places the glass on the table. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Can you tell me what you remember, at least? Before… Hydra. Do you remember the war? Do you remember Brooklyn? Your parents?”

Bucky looks down at the table, his jaw clenching, his hand tightening and straining around the glass.

“No.” He finally gets out and it’s brutal and harsh and full of anger. Steve’s heart breaks all over again. The silence drags and Steve feels like he’s losing him, that he’s one step from slipping away forever.

“Bucky. Let me help you, please. I’ll just...talk. And you can listen and maybe something will stand out to you. Maybe something will jar your memories.”

Bucky glares at Steve like he’s being an idiot. “You don’t think I’ve read up on me? That I haven’t picked up a book, or hacked my records? That I haven’t tried walking around this whole entire city to _jar_ my memories,” he sneers. “What the hell do you think I’ve been doing for a year?”

Steve purses his lips, resists the urge to run his clammy fingers through his hair. “I’m sure you have tried all that, and I’m sorry none of it worked. But you’re reading from history books when you’ve got the real thing sitting right here. I was there, Bucky. Through every moment. Through every birthday and job interview, every date you told me about, every walk to the ocean. At the front lines. When you were captured. Zola. Red Skull. That fucking train. All of it.” He’s shaking, he realizes.

Bucky is staring at him, unblinking. “Are you saying I owe you or something?” 

“You don’t owe me a damn thing, Bucky. If anything, I’m the one that owes you. Because you were there for me too, even more so. Every asthma attack, every beating from the neighborhood bully, every bout of pneumonia, every time my mom thought I was going to die. Every time I was short on rent because no one would hire me. Every time I was rejected from the army. And then every time you had my back at war. There was never a time you weren’t there for me. I’m just trying to help you now, in any way I can.”

He doesn’t mean to go so far. It physically hurts to lay it all out, and remember it all like it was yesterday. And Bucky can’t remember a single thing. It’s so fucking unfair he wants to rage and tear everything apart around him. But he can’t because that is not what Bucky needs right now.

Bucky is breathing hard, his head down. Then all of a sudden he stands, whipping out a pack of cigarettes, and walks back to the bedroom. Steve sighs and follows after a beat. He finds Bucky crouched against the railings, knees up to his chest. He looks strangely small despite his new frame. Looks like the serum did a number on his body as well. 

Steve sighs again and sits down as well, though he makes sure he is across from Bucky. The breeze feels nice even though the air is still muggy. He finds himself mimicking Bucky’s posture, knees up, his head back against the railing. He observes Bucky smoking, watches the trail of smoke disappear with the breeze.

Steve remembers a time when they were much younger. Bucky was maybe seventeen, Steve sixteen, and they would spend their summers on the fire escape. Bucky would smoke then too, but he would make sure it was never in Steve’s direction. Bucky was always careful about that. And Steve never complained about the smoking. He was even envious because he could never try it. He suggested it one time and Bucky nearly lost it.

Now here they are, same space, different century. And Bucky is still smoking, though now it looks less for pleasure and more for stress.

“I’m sorry,” Steve softly says. “I didn’t mean to drop all off that on you like that.”

Bucky finishes his smoke, contemplates another, but just puts the pack away. “Can I use your shower?”

Steve blinks. “Um, yeah, of course you can. I think everything should be as I left it. Towels, soap.” Bucky just nods and after a beat stands up and leaves. Steve stays a while, listening to the familiar sounds of water running nearby. He feels a headache coming on but he ignores it as he usually does. These things never last long. Ailments, illnesses. They don’t really affect him anymore. Unfortunately, alcohol is the same way. His metabolism is such that he can’t get drunk. Which is exactly what he wants to be doing right now.

He finally gets up and goes to wait for Bucky in the living room. He’s making some toast with jam when he hears the bathroom door open. Bucky walks out, towel wrapped around his waist, hair plastered to his face and neck. He walks over to his backpack leaning against the couch and Steve can’t help but notice the angry scarring all around his left shoulder where it meets the bionic arm.

He’s no doctor but he knows the job was rushed and botched. Probably hurt like hell, the serum in Bucky’s veins the only thing keeping him lucid and alive. He angrily looks down and realizes he’s put too much jam on the bread. Bucky grabs his bag and walks into the bedroom, closing the door. Steve drops the knife and exhales deeply, suddenly not so hungry anymore. 

He’s leaning back against the couch cushions when Bucky finally comes out, wearing dark jeans and a white tee. His hair is still a mess and Steve is about to ask if he wants a brush when Bucky expertly ties it back with an elastic. He joins Steve, surprising him by sitting on the same couch. He doesn’t dare move.

“Your shower is nice. Good hot water.” He says this so seriously that Steve doesn’t dare make a joke of it. “I’m glad. You’re welcome to it any time.” Bucky doesn’t respond to that.

“Bucky, where are you living, currently?”

Bucky shrugs. “I wouldn’t call it living, exactly, but there are plenty of vacated buildings here in the city. You wouldn’t believe the lack of security.”

Steve feels ill, angry. As if he could feel the tension, Bucky replies, “I’ve been in worse places. Kept it worse conditions.” That actually doesn’t make Steve feel better at all, but he relaxes at Bucky’s conciliatory tone. 

His phone suddenly rings in his pocket and Bucky freezes. “It’s just Sam,” he tells Bucky, who still looks like he’s about to bolt. Steve gets up and answers.

“Hey Sam, how are you? Oh yeah? Well that’s something, I guess. Yeah, I’m sure it is. A change of scenery is just what you needed. No, I’m good here, really. Yes, I’m behaving,” he grins, despite everything. “Of course I’ll call you if I find out anything. Yes, and if I’m in trouble. But I think I’m good for now, Sam. You take care of yourself, too.” He hangs up, turns back to Bucky.

“No one knows you’re here, and I intend to keep it that way,” he promises him. Bucky relaxes marginally. He sits back down and glances at the clock. It’s almost six in the evening. How the hell did that happen so fast? 

“Tell me something,” Bucky says suddenly.

“What?” asks Steve, turning towards Bucky.

“Anything. Tell me anything. About me. Just, something.”

Oh God, where does one even begin? Steve licks his lips and decides to start at the beginning. 

“You were born on March 10, 1917, in Indiana, and moved here to Brooklyn when you were eight. Your mom’s name was Winifred and your dad was George. You had four sisters who teased you constantly as you were the youngest. You met me in school that fall, and by met, you found me bloody and bruised as two older boys beat the crap out of me behind the playground.

“You scared them off because even though they were older, you were bigger and you had no fear. We were friends since that day though I have no idea what you saw in me. I was scrawny and short and always ill. I did poorly in school because of all the days I missed lying in bed with some ailment. You, on the other hand, did quite well for yourself in school. The teachers loved you, the girls all followed you around, and the boys around you respected you. Even though you were the new kid in town.

“Your family welcomed me right away, and my mom adored you. I think she was just so happy I made a friend, she was overcome. You visited me every time I was in the hospital, and almost punched a doctor the one time they said I might not make it. You never thought that, though. You threatened to kill me if I ever died.” Steve stops, eyes faraway. He can’t help the grin that starts as he recalls that particular memory. Bucky is deathly still at his side.

“Your family lived in the next apartment complex, so we saw each other almost every day. During the summers we were barely at home. We walked or rode our bikes everywhere, we’d be gone all day, and then get an earful when we returned home. Your mom made the best meatball marinara and if we could afford it, we’d get snow cones at the street vendors. 

“When you were thirteen, I think, you got into boxing, and you were actually pretty damn good. You went at it for years and that’s how you taught me how to fight. I think if you hadn’t, I’d have died in some alley. But you were always there, lurking. Always saving my butt. When my mom died you offered to have me move in with you. You’d been earning a decent wage by then and had your own place for a year. I was working at the local grocers and made enough to scrape by. But you offered and of course I said no. My pride wouldn’t allow it. But you’re stubborn as hell and after mom died… you knew you had me. I moved in that week. We lived together for four years. And then war hit.”

Steve is lost in thought again. He feels Bucky’s gaze on him but doesn’t trust himself to speak. That was harder than he thought. After he started to speak he just couldn’t stop, but now all those memories are assailing him and it is just too much. He stands up suddenly, briskly excusing himself and shutting himself inside the bathroom.

He glances at his image in the mirror. His eyes are red and tired. He feels like garbage, run over and useless. He splashes some water on his face, and notices how dark it is outside. He looks down at his watch and is startled to see it is nearly ten. Cursing, he dries his face and heads back to Bucky.

Bucky is staring out the living room window, his metal arm resting against the frame. The only light in the room is a small table light Bucky must’ve turned on while Steve was in the bathroom. Steve waits.

“I should go,” Bucky says to the window.

Steve promised himself he wouldn’t plead if it came to it, but he is losing that battle. “You don’t have to leave. You can stay here. I have the space. No one knows you’re here. You don’t have to run.”

Bucky lowers his arm and slowly turns to face Steve. His eyes are stormy and his mouth downturned. “You don’t want me here. I’m… I’m not always… stable. I never know if…” He looks frustrated with himself and Steve can’t stand it. He comes closer. 

“It doesn’t matter, Bucky. We’ll figure it out. Whatever you’re comfortable with. Take the master bedroom, I’ll sleep on the couch. At least for tonight.”

Bucky eyes him warily, clearly uneasy. “I don’t want the bed. I can sleep on the couch.”

Steve blinks, resists the urge to grin like a lunatic. “Whatever you want, Bucky.”

Bucky jerks his head in a nod and Steve goes to find a spare blanket and pillow. 


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky slowly opens up to Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire fic is complete but I'm a bit slow with editing so please be patient, thank you!

Steve doesn’t sleep a wink and he imagines Bucky doesn’t either. He lies in bed, staring up at the dark ceiling, until the light of dawn slowly comes creeping in. It looks to be another beautiful and warm day. Around six he decides to get out of bed. He left his door partially open so he could hear anything, but Bucky was mostly silent all night.

When he enters the living room, Bucky is sitting up, a blank look on his face. Steve wonders if he was in that position all night.

“Good morning,” he ventures, throwing Bucky a quick smile. Bucky doesn’t smile back. “Coffee?” he asks, already in the kitchen. 

“I don’t drink coffee,” Bucky mutters, and Steve frowns because Bucky was a coffee addict growing up. Five cups a day, black, no sugar. Steve always made fun of him for it. He turns on the pot and starts the brew. 

“What about breakfast?” Steve throws out as he grabs a mug. He can feel Bucky’s eyes on him as he moves around the kitchen.

“I could eat something.”

Steve looks up with a cheerful smile. “What would you like?” Bucky jerks his shoulder, indecisive.

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t eat that much anyway. I’ll just have whatever you’re having.” The coffee machine finishes brewing and Steve turns his back to Bucky to pour his coffee.

“Can I ask you something? I mean, is it ok if I ask you things?” Steve bumbles out.

“I’m not going to break,” Bucky deadpans but Steve can sense the wariness. Steve takes his mug and walks towards the living room. He leans against the door jam.

“Did they even feed you? Hydra. Do you even need to eat?” It is supposed to come off nonchalant, but there is steel in his voice. Bucky looks at him, as if the question is a surprise.

“I don’t remember eating much. Maybe if the mission took longer than a few days. I suppose even my body needed the nutrients. But I remember IV’s. I’m assuming everything just went through those.”

Steve takes a sip of his coffee to prevent himself from punching the wall. “So you have no idea if you like certain foods or not?” he finally asks. Bucky appears to think on it.

“I know I like some things. The cheese, for instance. The grapes were good. I just. I don’t think about food all that much. I function fine without it for the most part. I do sometimes feel hunger. Or thirst. Water I find I need more. Especially now, with the heat.”

Steve nods, finding the situation more curious than anything. “Well, I’m gonna make some omelets, and you let me know if you think they’re ok or not.” He goes back into the kitchen and preps a pan. He grabs the egg carton he picked up at the market yesterday and cracks a few eggs.

He clears his throat, whisking the eggs. “How’d you sleep last night?”

“I didn’t,” Bucky says and Steve almost jumps out of his skin as the other man is standing five feet from him at the doorway. Slowing his heart, he adds some salt and pepper to the bowl.

“Let me guess, you don’t need sleep either.”

Bucky shrugs. “I sleep sometimes. It’s...difficult to let go like that.”

Steve nods solemnly, knowing exactly what he means. To sleep is to leave oneself vulnerable. He can’t imagine it’s easy for Bucky to do. Especially now. He suppresses a sigh as he spills the egg mixture into the sizzling pan. Bucky watches in rapt attention. When Steve is finished, he divvies up the omelets and places them on two plates, handing one to Bucky.

They go back to dining area and take a seat. Steve dives in first and Bucky soon follows. For someone who claims they don’t need food, his eggs disappear in seconds. Steve stares. Bucky frowns at his plate like he’s confused, and Steve is about to offer him the rest of his, when Bucky speaks.

“That was good. Thank you,” he says, almost uncertainly. Steve is touched and silently amazed Bucky remembers social niceties after being a lethal assassin for decades.

“Anytime, Buck.”

***

Steve calls the cable company to hook up his cable. It’s been sitting dormant for months and months and luckily he never actually cancelled his services, just deferred them. The TV is up and running after a few short moments and Bucky is watching with renewed interest. Steve can’t help but smile at the picture. 

His phone chimes with a text and it’s Tony and _shit_ he totally forgot all about him. Tony is naturally curious about his whereabouts, given he never returned to the Tower last night. Steve texts him that he wanted to take a long drive, and ended up hanging out at the ocean all night long. Tony knows Steve is just crazy enough to do that, and doesn’t ask further questions. Steve tells him he’ll return his car today, but Tony just tells him to keep it for as long as he needs it. Steve thanks him and puts his phone away. He suddenly realizes he badly needs a shower.

He tells Bucky he won’t take long and shuts himself in the bathroom. Every second he is away from Bucky is one where he doesn’t know if he’ll come out and Bucky will be gone. He hates to think that way but he isn’t an idiot. One night on Steve’s couch doesn’t mean shit and they aren’t exactly comfortable with each other yet.

He finishes up, brushing his teeth and goes out to his bedroom to get some clothes. He peeks around the corner and Bucky is still there, watching TV. Steve sighs with relief and goes to get dressed. When he comes out, Bucky is snacking on more chips, the bag almost gone.

Steve sits next to him on the couch, and stares at the TV. It’s some nature program on Discovery and Bucky seems enraptured by it. 

“The colors are so vivid,” he exclaims in muted wonder. Steve smiles. “I know. The first time I saw a flat screen TV I was hooked. I watched TV all day and all night. The last I knew technicolor was barely a thing and now everything is in High Def. It’s insane. And the amount of programs now! There’s something for everyone. They even have a cooking channel.”

Bucky nods like he is taking it all in. “You remember nothing, from before they pulled you out of the ice?” he asks Steve then. Steve stares at Bucky, his smile waning. “Nothing. I don’t even remember the crash. One minute I was talking with Peggy. I remember that. And then… I woke up in this world. In this time.”

“That must have been difficult.” 

Steve smiles, but it is bitter and tired. “Understatement. Finding out everyone you ever knew and loved was gone. I don’t know how I didn’t end up in an insane asylum. They actually tried to subdue me but the drugs and restraints didn’t hold. It took weeks for me to come to terms with everything that happened. To be honest, I’m still not all there.”

“And now you fight with the Avengers?” Bucky asks, his full attention on Steve. It feels nice. Steve misses this. He misses Bucky all to himself. “Um yeah, I guess. Had to do something with my new life. Might as well save humanity, right? Things didn’t always go as planned. We found out aliens and gods existed. It was...very strange and surreal. Though I gotta admit, Bucky, nothing knocked me off balance as much as seeing your face again.” He huffs out a puff of laughter, but again it’s cynical and bittersweet.

Bucky looks down at his lap. “Last night, everything you told me… I think it helped a bit. I was up all night replaying your words and I got some flashes every now and then, some color, a name, a location. It wasn’t much, but it was more than I had before. Could you… would you tell me more about the war? Our unit? Just, something?”

Steve quite honestly doesn’t want to relive all that because even though there was so much good and enjoyment, he knows how this story ends. But Bucky is asking for help and Steve could and would not refuse him.

“Course, Buck. I told you, whatever you need. But maybe lunch first?” 

***

Steve gets Chinese takeout and meets the delivery guy downstairs. He hurries back upstairs to lay everything out. Since he doesn’t know what Bucky prefers, he got a bit of everything. There is easily enough for four people. Bucky looks on in interest at the assortment and Steve hands him a paper plate.

Steve doesn’t pester Bucky, allowing him to pick and choose to his heart’s desire. Bucky’s plate is stack full by the time he circles the table, grabbing a bit of everything and making Steve’s heart soar.

They eat in the living room at the coffee table and Steve observes Bucky lick his fingers clean after trying out some spring rolls. He hides his smile and finishes his sesame chicken. Bucky may claim he doesn’t need to eat, but Steve is nothing if not a good host and he will make damn sure Bucky has food whenever he wants it.

“Did we eat food like this, when we were younger?” Bucky asks after his plate is almost empty. Steve is wiping his hands on a napkin, pleased that Bucky enjoyed the meal. “Nah. Back then it was a lot of home cooked meals. Once in a while we’d make the trek to Coney Island and grab some food from the vendors.” Bucky mulls that over. 

“It sounds like we had a fun childhood,” he says softly. Steve smiles fondly. “We did. Despite everything. My stupid, ill body and the Depression, and lack of money sometimes. I’d say it was pretty great. I wouldn’t give it up for anything.”

Bucky sits back against the cushions. “Will you tell me now, about the war?” Steve suppresses a sigh and gets comfortable. “War was hell, Bucky. I’m not gonna sugarcoat it. The only reason I stayed sane was because we were there together. At least for part of it. I was… in a different path back then. I made my way to Europe under different circumstances.”

“I read that, too,” Bucky interjects, though he doesn’t make fun of Steve for it. “Was I glad to see you?”

Steve swallows, remembers thinking Bucky was dead. “You didn’t know. Your entire unit had been captured and Zola already had his claws in you. I raced in to help. It was just me. Peggy helped me, though, to get behind enemy lines. I found most of the unit in cages. But...I didn’t see you. But I kept looking. I wasn’t going to stop.” Steve looks down, gathering his thoughts.

“When I finally found you, I was both ecstatic and horrified. You were strapped to a table and muttering nonsense. You looked like death when I pulled you from there. But then you saw me and the muttering stopped. The pained, faraway look in your eyes went away. You looked absolutely shocked to see me there. Also, I was three times the size I was when you left for war.” Steve rubs his face, leans back.

“After that, it was a shit show. We almost died in that place. Red Skull was there, and then he escaped and we were almost burned alive. You were so stubborn, Buck. You refused to leave me, even when it looked like we were both gonna die. It was a fucking miracle. I didn’t know back then, what Zola did to you. What he started to do to you. I already had the serum. Pretty sure it helped me in there. But I never stopped to think about what happened to you. I was just too damn happy to see you alive.”

They are both silent for a long while, Steve rubbing at his head as if he could erase the images coming forth, and Bucky is toying with a cigarette, eyes contemplative and faraway. Finally, he stuffs the cigarette in his mouth and leaves the room. Steve hears the balcony doors open and he releases the shaky sigh he’s been holding in.

Fuck, this is going to be more difficult than he realizes. He was doing this for Buck’s benefit, but he wasn’t quite sure if he was getting through and now he’s dredging up old memories he’d rather not delve into at the moment. 

He picks up their empty plates and goes to the kitchen. He cleans up the rest of the table, puts away the leftover food and wipes everything down. Bucky still hasn’t returned. Feeling like a shit friend, he goes after him.

Once again Bucky is on the floor, never mind that there is a patio set ready for use. Steve sighs and slides down next to Bucky, instead of across from him. He wasn’t even thinking about it; it was the most natural thing in the world to do. He only realizes how close he is until he sees Bucky stiffen. He scoots over minutely and the other man visibly relaxes. 

“I don’t remember anything,” Bucks whispers, his voice flat. “Everything you told me, it all seemed pretty damn important. I should be able to remember. But...there’s nothing.”

Steve shuts his eyes. “What is the earliest memory you have?”

Bucky takes a drag, lets it all out. “Pain. Confusion. My missing arm. It comes and goes in flashes. But before Washington I didn’t even have that. When you said my name on that highway it unlocked something.”

Steve swallows, his jaw working. “I’m sorry I didn’t try harder. You were right there and all I had to do was reach further. None of this would be happening if I just fucking_ tried_.” 

Bucky turns his head and Steve can’t help but glance back, his misery on full display. “I’d be dead now anyway and you’d still have been frozen for all those years.”

A tiny smile escapes Steve. “Are you kidding me? You would never have allowed me to do anything that stupid. You would have jumped on that aircraft with me and we’d have figured it out. And if not, we would have died together.” He looks away, because it hurts too much to look at Bucky like this. Five inches apart but complete strangers. 

“I would rather be dead than this.”

Steve’s blood goes cold. “Don’t.” Bucky turns away from him and after a few second suddenly springs up. “I need some air.” He’s already stalking away before Steve registers he’s actually leaving. He hurries after him.

“Bucky, wait.” He doesn’t dare come too close but Bucky is already at the door and Steve panics, but something keeps him in place. He doesn’t take another step, just watches as Bucky opens the door and shuts it behind him. He stands very still for another minute before his heartbeat gets back to normal. Even then the nerves don’t go away.

***

He paces. He thinks about calling Sam. He thinks about running after him. He thinks about all the things he wanted to say, but couldn’t. Because this is not the Bucky he knew. That Bucky was gone. He feels ill and he still paces.

Bucky took nothing with him, not his hoodie or his backpack, which is the only reason Steve’s not having a full-blown panic attack. He’s coming back. He has to. 

It’s nearly midnight when he hears the soft creak of the door. Steve is on the couch, watching something on mute. Bucky doesn’t come over. He heads straight to the bathroom and Steve hears the shower start up. He relaxes a bit.

Fifteen minutes later Bucky comes out, towel around his waist. Steve glances at Bucky’s bag, still in the living room. Steve sighs. “Where did you go?”

Bucky leans down and grabs his bag. “Manhattan.” Steve blinks. “How?” There was no way Bucky was risking public transportation with his arm front and center like that.

“I ran.” Bucky takes his bag and walks into Steve’s bedroom. He doesn’t bother to shut the door as he gets dressed. Steve stares at the TV. Bucky surprises him by plopping next to him, his metal arm almost brushing against Steve’s. 

It really is a magnificent piece of technology, Steve muses. As Bucky blankly stares at the TV, Steve glances down at the metal. Bucky put on a tank top so the entire arm is out for display. Steve’s gaze travels down to the fingers, where the intricate plates mold perfectly to form the appendages. Tony would kill to get five minutes alone with it. Then his eyes go up and see the bright red star staring back at him, and he purses his lips as he remembers what it represents.

“I remember Zola attaching this thing,” Bucky suddenly says. Steve starts, looking at Bucky guiltily. But Bucky continues to stare at the TV. “I was mostly awake, you know, for the procedure. The serum inside me was doing most of the work. The skin grafting itself to the metal, becoming one. I still remember what it felt like.” His voice fades. 

“This doesn’t define you, Bucky. It’s just an arm.”

Bucky glares at Steve, his eyes like coal. “This isn’t just an arm. It’s a weapon. It’s a part of me.”

“Fine,” Steve acquiesces. “So it’s a weapon, and they made you wield it. Still doesn’t change anything.”

Bucky eyes Steve. “Are you always this stubborn?” he asks with a frown. Steve smirks. “You have no idea.”

***

At some point Steve falls asleep and when he wakes up around three in the morning, Bucky is still next to him, his eyes glued to the TV. He’s about to get up and go to bed but decides against it. He likes the company. His eyes shut again, and oblivion takes him.

***

Something hard bumps into him and he startles awake. He’s still on the couch, though it’s clearly morning. He looks to his right and notices Bucky there, still in the exact same spot and position. He looks absolutely exhausted though, the dark hollows under his eyes even more pronounced than usual. Steve sits up, yawning.

“You got a text,” Bucky says, indicating Steve’s phone on the coffee table. Steve rubs his eyes and grabs his phone, unlocking the screen. It’s from Tony, who is joking about sending out a search party. Damn it. He really needs to talk to him to avoid further suspicion. He’s pretty sure Tony thinks it’s odd that Steve’s not staying at the Tower. He should check in with him, before Tony really does send a search party for him. 

“I uh, gotta take care of something. Shouldn’t be long.”

He stands up and goes to get ready. After his shower, he’s dressed and all set to go but he pauses in the living room, where Bucky still hasn’t moved from. He really does look awful, he thinks, but Steve doesn’t remark on it.

“Are you going to be here when I get back?” He has to ask. He can’t just leave without knowing. Bucky glances up at him, bleary-eyed. “I’ll be here,” he simply says, and Steve nods in acknowledgement. He’s just going to have to trust Bucky.

“I’m going to pick up some more groceries, on my way back,” he announces. Bucky nods noncommittally. He hates to leave Bucky all alone for such a long while, but he has things to attend to. Tamping down on his nerves, he grabs his phone and keys and leaves.

***

He goes to see Tony first. He uses his keycard to enter through the back, like last time, and punches in the floor number for Tony’s suites. For once Tony isn’t experimenting on something. He’s actually cooking breakfast and it looks like he made enough for both of them.

“I gotta say I’m a bit insulted you’ve chosen to camp out somewhere other than your luxurious suite here in the tower.” He hands Steve a plate of scrambled eggs with mushrooms and bacon. Steve is impressed. He never took Tony for someone who makes his own food. He takes a bite. Not bad at all.

“I was going to,” he lies. “But being back in the city got me going down memory lane. I went to see Peggy, and it was so nice to see her again, I wanted to stay close. She’s gone downhill since the last time I saw her, and I felt bad for leaving for so long.” He despises himself for lying, especially invoking Peggy’s name like that. But it’s the only lie that Tony would believe. 

Tony scarfs down his food, clearly pleased with himself. He nods along to Steve’s story though. “I’d feel horrible too for abandoning a gorgeous gal like that to go hunting for your former war buddy all over the world,” he says matter of factly. Steve shoots him a glare. Tony smirks and wipes his mouth. “Have you told her, about what you’ve been doing?”

Steve pauses mid-bite. “I thought about it. But then I remember how proud she was to work for Shield and I just couldn’t do that to her. If she found out what they did to Bucky was partially the fault of her superiors… I just can’t do that to her.” It was all true. He badly wants to share his burden with her. The only other living person that knows Bucky. But her health and memory is failing, and Steve doesn’t want to dump that on her.

“I don’t blame you for not wanting to share that with her,” Tony says seriously. “That’s almost too much to take for anyone.”

Steve sighs, pushes his empty plate away. “Thanks for breakfast.” Tony takes both their plates to the sink. “So I know it’s only been a couple of days but I don’t really have anything to share yet that might help you track Barnes down.” Tony looks oddly disappointed with himself.

Steve puts on his best face. “Like you said, it’s only been a couple of days. I’m really grateful you’re looking into it, though. I really appreciate the help. But you know what, I think I’ve decided to take a break.” He sighs, hopes he’s not overdoing it. “After seeing Peggy again, it made me realize how much of my life lately I’ve been missing. I think I just need to relax for a bit. At least until Sam is back from D.C.”

Tony eyes Steve, an impressed smirk on his face. “Now that’s what I’m talking about. A vacation! You badly need one. I can loan you my place in Miami. Or Palm Springs if you prefer? Bogota?”

Steve laughs, waving Tony off. “I’m good, Tony, really. Just being back here is enough for me. This is my home. And what’s better than summertime in Brooklyn?”

Tony raises a brow. “Um, literally anything else. But hey, have at it. The offer’s always open.” Steve shoots Tony a grateful smile. “Thanks, Tony. Seriously. You’re a good guy.”

“Don’t be telling anyone that, got it?”

“Scout’s honor!”

The eyeroll was worth it, Steve thinks.

***

He leaves Stark Tower in a better, lighter mood. Tony hopefully doesn’t suspect anything, and he got breakfast out of it. He gets into Tony’s borrowed car and decides to take the scenic route back to Brooklyn. 

Thunder rumbles in the distance and soon the wind picks up as well. The sun quickly disappears, and Steve luckily finds a spot close to the market where he loads up on groceries, more mindful of his choices this time around. He also picks up a couple pack of cigarettes for Bucky, because with the way he’s been going through his, Steve would be surprised if he has any left by tomorrow. 

Fat drops of rain greet him as he carries the six bags to his car and by the time he’s pulled up to the curb near his Brownstone, the storm is in full force. Lighting flashes and the trees sway in every direction. Steve grumbles to himself as he hurries to the miniscule trunk to grab all the groceries. He’s soaked by the time he makes it to the stoop.

Silently cursing, his hair dripping into his eyes, he somehow manages to fit the key in and unlock the door without dropping any of the bags. He swings the door open and backs himself inside. He sets all the wet bags right on the floor and frowns at the wet mess around him.

It’s fairly dark inside the apartment, despite the hour, and Bucky obviously hadn’t bothered with turning on any lights. Shirt sopping wet he searches for the cigarettes and is glad to find them still dry. Triumphant, he heads over to the living room but as he turns the corner he freezes at the threshold.

It’s nearly completely dark because all the shades are drawn, and his eyes adjust quickly to notice Bucky sitting in the corner in the armchair, and a Glock pointed straight at Steve’s head. His heart skips a few beats and his brain can’t quite process the scene. But all the same he finds himself raising his arms to the side, placating.

“Bucky-”

“Where am I?” The voice is dark and lethal, and the gun doesn’t wobble. “What is this place?” It’s commanding and ruthless and if Steve doesn’t answer the question he knows Bucky won’t hesitate. 

“You’re in my home, Bucky. Don’t you remember? You’ve been here for two days.” He can just make out the white glean of Bucky’s eyes and the glint of metal of Bucky’s raised arm, steady and ready. He swallows and dares to take a step.

Bucky is clearly grappling with something going on in his mind because he’s staring Steve up and down like he should recognize him and his mouth is a grimace and Steve is pleading with his eyes, hoping Bucky can snap out of it. He takes another step. This time Bucky sits up a bit straighter, gun poised.

“It’s me, Steve. You know me. You’ve been with me for two days. You found me, remember? We came here together.” He hates the desperate tone in his voice but he’s come to the realization that this is a common occurrence for Bucky and he’s not sure if he can take all this. 

“Please, Bucky. I’m not going to harm you. Please just put the gun down.” He can see Bucky’s jaw working, contemplating. Thunder growls outside and the rain splatters against the windows. The moment stretches forever. Finally, finally, Bucky slowly lowers the Glock. He stands quickly and approaches Steve, who is rooted to the spot, dripping all over the floor.

Steve’s arms are still up and Bucky glances at what’s in his hands. Idly, Steve remembers the cigarettes, which are now probably crushed. Bucky slowly reaches forward and removes them from Steve’s grasp. Looking down in confusion Bucky reads the label. Then his eyes meet Steve’s and just like the receding storm outside, the darkness slowly leave’s Bucky’s face. He takes an unsteady step back.

“Rogers?”

He shuts his eyes, exhaling wetly and finally drops his arms. “Yeah, Buck. It’s me. Just me.”

Bucky looks suddenly aghast and stumbles back towards the couch. He drops down, and stoops forward, like he’s in pain, arms on his knees. 

Steve’s heart is racing and he can barely make out a coherent thought in his head. “What was that?” he whispers as his pulse finally slows down.

Bucky doesn’t look up. “I fell asleep.” He sounds like death. Like a man defeated. Steve shakes his head in confusion. “What does that mean? You fell asleep? It looked like you needed the rest.” He is still frowning in bewilderment when Bucky finally looks up.

“I fell asleep. And when I woke up I couldn’t remember where I was, or what day it was or who the fuck you were,” he grits out, and Steve’s heart sinks. 

“Does this happen after every time you sleep?”

“Not every time. But I never know. Will I wake up hours later? A year later?” He looks dejected and Steve is right behind him there. 

“Jesus, Bucky. I had no idea. I’m sorry.”

“I warned you. I’m not good to have around. I could have killed you.”

Steve doesn’t know what to say. He wants to reassure Bucky but what the hell can he say? Bucky’s living a nightmare and there is nothing Steve can do or say to help him. But he knows one thing. Under no circumstances does he want Bucky to leave. He makes his decision.

He crosses the living room and sits down next to Bucky. For once the man doesn’t flinch, but he won’t look Steve in the face. “I don’t want you to leave, Bucky. If you left and this happened again I’d never forgive myself.”

Bucky finally looks at him, incredulous. “Did you not hear what I just said? I almost killed you.”

“I know, Buck, I was there, remember? And I’ll be there the next time, too. And the next. Until you wake up and you’ll remember everything. Because that’s what we’re going to fucking accomplish together. Please don’t argue with me about this. I’m really not in the mood right now.”


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve wants Bucky to trust him, but that goes both ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the kudos and comments!!

Steve roughly dries himself off in the bathroom, not caring that his hair is sticking up every which way. He changes out of his wet clothes and puts on some lounge pants and a tee. He takes one last haggard look in the mirror, thinks about smashing it to pieces, and instead goes to find Bucky.

He’s on his third smoke by the time Steve finds him, clearly digging into the packs Steve bought him. He sighs, as the balcony is still all wet from the storm, though Bucky doesn’t seem to notice in the least.

“Come on, Buck, let’s get inside. I’ll make some dinner.” Nothing. Like talking to a wall. Steve leaves after a minute, before he screams. He starts to prep some dinner, because he needs to keep busy or he’ll lose it. Plus, ever since he was unfrozen and realized he could actually afford all the food he wanted, he really took an interest in cooking.

He chops onions and potatoes, and boils water and fires up the pan. He gets into a decent groove when he suddenly looks up and Bucky is right there. He pauses mid-dice before he chops his finger off.

“Can I help with something?”

Steve stares and then ducks his head, hiding a warm smile. “Course you can. Can you take care of the garlic? Small pieces, please.” He covertly watches as Bucky picks up the knife, gazing at it oddly, and then begins slowly chopping. They carry on in silence until Bucky passes the garlic over to him. He keeps the knife though, turning it over in his hand idly. Steve swallows.

“I’ve never seen anyone wield knives like that,” Steve says, and they both know he’s not referring to the one currently in his hand. Bucky ignores the compliment, his fingers deftly turning the knife over in his hand. Steve’s eyes don’t waver from him. 

“My favorite was the Mark II. I loved the feel of it. It was the perfect size and weight. They always handed it to me after cryo, like it was a gift.” His eyes are dark, his memories darker. Steve watches him slowly place the knife back on the cutting block.

“What happened to it?” Steve asks him softly.

“I lost it. On the Helicarrier.” 

Steve swallows thickly. He resists the urge to feel out the spot where Bucky stabbed him- with that same knife. It’s long healed over, just the faintest ridge of a pale scar as the only indication that anything had happened. Same with the bullet holes. Bucky had great aim, he had to admire that. He’d laugh if he didn’t feel like crying.

“You almost died.” It’s like the man could read his mind. Steve sighs. “Bucky. We’ve been over this. That wasn’t you. And I almost did die, but you pulled me out. You broke free of their control, Bucky. Anything before that doesn’t count. Not to me.”

Bucky’s face is impassible, shuttered. Steve doesn’t want either of them to dwell on what happened, not right now. He finds the strength to plaster on a smile. “Thanks again for your help with the garlic.” Bucky only nods and gets out of Steve’s way. 

The rest of the meal prep goes by quickly and before long Steve has laid out on two plates, grilled chicken with garlic mashed potatoes. He sets the warm plates on the table and calls Bucky over. 

For someone who claims food isn’t necessary, Bucky scarfs his meal down in minutes. Wordlessly, Steve gets up and refills his plate, thankful he thought of making extra. Bucky throws him a surprised, but pleased look and Steve takes that as a win.

“This is really good,” Bucky says after his second plate is empty. Steve smiles as he wipes his mouth with a napkin. “It’s not horrible. I’m still getting back into the swing of things.” He points at Bucky’s plate. “It’s your metabolism, right? I swear I never get full. Has its benefits I guess, but I can’t get drunk so there’s always that,” he frowns. 

“I wasn't allowed alcohol,” Bucky proclaims as he drinks his water. “They wanted my mind sharp at all times. To be honest, I never thought much about it.”

“I guess I don’t really think about it, either. I don’t need to drink, but I remember-” he cuts himself off because the memory that surfaces has Bucky in it, and he’s not sure if he’s in the mood to hear about it.

“It’s ok, Steve, I’m not going to break apart.” 

Steve stills, his heart swelling, because this is the first time Bucky’s said his name. It’s such a small thing but it takes him off balance, and Bucky’s looking at him odd so he clears his throat and takes a sip of water to regroup.

“Long before the war you’d drag me to dance halls and though I never did dance, I ended up drinking to pass the time. You would join me but it took nothing at all to get me drunk. One beer and I was done. You made up for it by drinking three, four beers and we’d stumble home, you half dragging, half carrying me down the street. We’d make so much noise stumbling up the stairs and my mom would come out, all shocked in her nightdress.” He pauses, a wide grin spreading on his face.

“For some reason she always blamed me for it. I think she was just thankful you got me home every night. But I’d get an earful the next morning. Though it took two days for me to properly sober up. It was the one thing I could do without worrying for my health. Well, we know better now, of course. But back then, getting drunk on cheap beers was definitely a highlight of my young adult life.” He looks up and Bucky has a smirk on his face. He might not remember, but at least he’s enjoying Steve’s story. That makes him ridiculously happy.

Bucky watches after as Steve loads the dishwasher and the expression on his face is priceless. Idly, Steve thinks that Bucky probably hasn’t even seen a dishwasher before, or at least not thought about it in earnest. His heart twinges sadly for all the other small experiences Bucky’s had to miss out on. 

To be honest, Steve wants to get Bucky to talk more about Hydra, and what they did to him. Obviously a painful topic, he wants to ease into it, but there’s really no polite or nice way to go about it. He doesn’t want to open up old wounds or scare Bucky away, so he keeps putting it off.

He joins Bucky on the couch later, and they watch mindless TV for a bit. Bucky stifles a yawn and Steve purses his lips but says nothing. He’s pretty exhausted himself but hates the thought of going to bed, knowing full well Bucky will do no such thing. There’s gotta be a solution for this...problem. 

“Hey, Bucky. Have you thought about seeing if anyone can help you with this sleeping issue of yours?” Bucky gives him a look that he can’t quite decipher and Steve attempts to explain his thought process better. “What if there was a way to get rid of what’s causing you to forget. Maybe there are tests than can be run-”

Bucky stiffens beside him. “I’m done with tests,” he says with an icy finality. “I’m done with experiments.”

“Look, I get it, Bucky, I completely understand if you never want to be in that situation again, but my friend Tony Stark, he’s a genius and he’s really good at solving scientific problems that I can’t even begin to decipher.”

But Bucky isn’t listening, because he goes utterly still at the mention of Tony. Steve stops and frowns in question. “What’s wrong?”

Bucky’s throat works as he stares at Steve. “Stark?” he finally scrapes out, voice dry and odd. Steve has seen Bucky’s various facial expressions in the past few days, ranging from confusion to rage, to inquisitive. But Steve has yet to see Bucky scared. And it’s frightening Steve as well.

“What is it, Buck?”

In a flash, Bucky is off the couch and has a firm grip on his backpack as he makes his way to the door. Steve’s heart implodes in his chest as he runs after him. “Bucky, wait! What’s going on, where are you going?”

Bucky actually does stop, hand on the doorknob. “I have to go. I need to look into something.”

Steve suddenly doesn’t want Bucky to leave. He places his palm on the door. Bucky turns slowly to face him. “Move your hand, or I’ll move it for you.”

Steve stares at the face of a stranger but doesn’t budge. “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

Bucky seems to contemplate the demand, but instead of breaking Steve’s hand, he shifts on one foot and looks Steve dead in the eyes. “You told me I was free to come and go.”

Fuck. He did actually tell him that. After a moment of hesitation, Steve drops his arm. “You’re right. You’re my guest, and are welcome to come and go as you please.” Bucky doesn’t give Steve another thought as he yanks on the knob and is downstairs and outside before Steve even gets his door closed. He leans against the frame, eyes shut.

“Fuck.”

***

Bucky doesn’t return that night. Nor is he back the next night either. By the third day Steve feels a constant ache in his chest at the mere thought of Bucky never coming back. He barely leaves his apartment for fear of missing him if he does decide to return. After five days he thinks about calling Sam. For what, he’s not even sure. Just to talk to somebody. He’s barely eaten, hasn’t shaved and worn his hardwoods down by the constant pacing.

He nearly caves and goes to see Tony but after almost a week, at some point during the day, Steve turns around and Bucky is standing on the balcony, backpack in hand, face a grizzly mess. Steve eyes him up and down. “You could have just used the front door,” he says, and his voice is not as steady as he thinks it is.

Bucky walks into the bedroom and drops his backpack. “I like the element of surprise,” and Steve isn’t quite sure if that was a joke or not. He sighs and takes another long look at Bucky. “Shower?” he simply asks, and is greeted by a nod. 

While Bucky is in the bathroom Steve sits on the bed, his hands shaking. He’s both furious and elated. He keeps glancing at Bucky’s backpack, but paranoia and guilt makes him rethink his actions. He’s pretty sure Bucky would know right away if Steve even touched it, and he hates the thought of betraying his trust. In the end he just sits there and waits for Bucky to come out.

When he finally does, he goes over to Steve. “Can I borrow some clothes? Didn’t get the chance to get mine washed.” Steve gets up off the bed, already heading for his dresser. “Of course. For once we’re the same size,” he jokes, and retrieves a pair of boxers, lounge pants and a gray tee. He hands them over and without preamble, Bucky drops his towel and begins to dress.

Steve blinks, tries and fails not to blush and in the end lamely excuses himself to make it appear he’s giving Bucky privacy. It’s not like he’s never seen his friend nude before, and vice versa. Before the war, during the war. It was a common occurrence. He just wasn’t expecting such an informal reaction from Bucky now. 

He mentally shrugs. Bucky was trained to be a lethal assassin. Modesty wasn’t even on his radar, probably. Bucky chooses that moment to walk into the living room. The clothes fit almost perfectly though Steve is broader in the chest and shoulders and the shirt is looser on Bucky. Still, everything suits him quite well. His hair is still damp, and he didn’t bother to shave.

“Thanks. For the clothes.” Steve waves it off. He would give Bucky the shirt off his back if need be. But of course Bucky isn’t used to people actually caring for him. Steve vows to change all that.

“So you wanna tell me where you ran off to?” Steve flat out asks him. Bucky looks away, face a mask.

“I had to look into something,” he answers vaguely. “Into someone,” he amends, and says nothing more. Steve eyes him warily, hating all the secrecy.

“Does this have to do with Tony Stark?”

Bucky doesn’t answer at first. He leans back against the door jam. “I’d forgotten. That Howard had a son. It wasn’t something on my radar. Or Hydra’s. Only the missions mattered. Faces, names, irrelevant. When you mentioned Stark, something...clicked. I needed to look into it.”

  
Steve’s heart is suddenly racing. “Bucky. Is Tony OK?” Bucky glares at Steve.

“_Really?_”

Steve suddenly realizes how that sounded, but guiltily, his mind went there. He puts up his arms. “Sorry. That’s not what I meant. I know you wouldn’t…” he trails off because as much as he wants to trust and believe this Bucky, he really doesn’t know what he’s capable of. And Bucky reads all that on his face.

“I’m done with all that. I don’t want to hurt people anymore. I don’t want to become what they made me. Seventy years I’ve done their bidding, without question, without hesitation. I was tortured and beaten and my brain fried for decades. Experimented on, stuck with needles, frozen, unfrozen, memories wiped. I couldn’t even take a fucking piss without their permission! So I am fucking _done._ I’m making my own decisions now. And if you don’t think you can trust me, then screw you too. Just say the word and I’ll leave.”

Steve’s mouth droops in shock, at the sheer vehemence in Bucky’s voice, at the pure anger and turmoil he’s had to deal with. His heart feels shattered, and he hates himself for blindly thinking the worst. He feels like shit.

“Jesus, Bucky.” He swallows thickly. “I’m sorry, OK? I swear I wasn’t insinuating anything. I was just concerned you ran off like that. Of course I trust you. And I want you to trust me. I told you I want to help you, I wasn’t lying. And I don’t want you to leave.” The last bit is soft, pleading. He wants to reach out, to grab onto him and hold him. Like he used to do a thousand times before. But there’s a chasm there he doesn’t yet know how to cross.

“I’m not him, you know,” Bucky says. “That Bucky you knew died in the war, and all his memories died with him.” He doesn't say this to hurt Steve, but it kills anyway. “I know that, Bucky.”

“Do you? Because I want to make sure you understand that. This is here and now. What is past is long gone.”

Steve raises his chin defiantly. “It may be gone, but I’m not giving up hope, either. You can scoff at that all you like, but all I ever had was hope and I know we can move past this. Even if you never recover your memories. I want you to trust me. Something changed on that Helicarrier, and that something brought you here.”

Bucky sighs, rubs at his face. “I’ve trusted you this far, OK? But you saw what can happen with one memory lapse. You saw what I can do. I barely even trust myself. So how long do you think we can keep this up before something terrible happens?”

“Some wars aren’t fought on the battlefield, Buck. Sometimes we have to deal with unpleasant things. I’m willing to give things a try, if you are.” Bucky looks tired and worn out, and Steve wants more than anything to reassure him. But it’s Bucky’s decision, in the end.

“I like it here,” Bucky says, and Steve is elated beyond words. “Yeah, I like it here too, Buck.

***

Steve has two bedrooms and only one has furniture in it. He tells Bucky he wants to get a bed, at least, for the other bedroom, for Bucky. But the man waves him off. “The couch is fine,” is all he says on the matter. But Steve wants to make Bucky feel welcome. Especially if he’s gonna be here a while, which is fine with Steve.

It’s been almost a week since Bucky decided he’s gonna stick around, and Steve is beyond thrilled, but also a bit worried about the situation. Bucky can’t just keep coming and going through his balcony, and sooner or later, someone is bound to notice his appearance.

He tells Bucky he’s thinking about telling Sam. Bucky naturally pales at that, but Steve does his best to reassure him. “It’s Sam. He’s been working with me for over a year, helping me find you!” he explains, and surprisingly, Bucky relents. “Just Sam,” he says though. 

“Just Sam,” Steve promises. He calls him that evening, as Bucky is taking a shower. But first he runs to the nearest CVS to grab a disposable phone. He is too paranoid to give him all the information on his personal cell. He texts him first.

One minute later, Sam rings. “What’s going on?” He sounds serious and concerned and Steve has to smile at the man’s loyalty.

“I’m good, Sam. And hi, by the way,” he grins into the phone. He hears an exasperated sigh on the other end. “Something’s up, Cap. Now spill.”

“I found him.”

Silence. Steve waits him out. “Do you need me to fly back, like right now?” Again, Steve grins, and kinda wishes he was here with him. “No, I’m good, really. He’s um, here with me. Staying with me. Just over two weeks now. I was gonna tell you, but I needed him to be OK with that. He’s got some trust issues.”

Sam blows into the phone. “Shit, Steve. Is he… ok? Are you sure it’s safe to be around him?”

Steve doesn’t quite know how to answer that. But he wants to reassure him. “I’m fine, Sam, I promise. And Bucky’s doing as well as can be expected, given the circumstances. He’s slowly opening up. He had no place to go. He’s literally been wandering for a year, trying to figure things out. And yes, he knew we were looking for him. But again, trust issues…”

He hears Sam sigh. “If at any moment you need me up there, you don’t hesitate, Cap. I’m serious. I know you want to trust him and believe him, but his head’s all scrambled and we don’t even know the half of what Hydra did to him or what he was forced to do. Not to mention the entire world is still looking for him. The bounty on him is insane.”

Steve frowns, knows Sam means well. “I will contact you if there are any issues,” he promises. “But like I told him, the past is the past. Nobody can change that. Bucky wants to change his future though, and I’m going to help him. I need you to back me up with this, Sam. You’re the only one who knows about this.”

“Cap, you know I always got your back. If you say you’re good, then we’re cool. I’m just asking for a little caution.”

“Always,” Steve says, and promises to stay in touch. 

***

“What did he say?” Steve is in the kitchen when Bucky comes out of the bathroom. Steve looks at him in question. Bucky points to the new phone on the table and Steve smirks at his carelessness. Not that he was trying to hide anything from Bucky. 

“Uh, the usual speech about being careful and watching my back around you.” When Bucky doesn’t join in the humor, Steve loudly sighs. “It’s fine, Bucky. He’s just being overprotective, but he trusts me, and I trust him. He’s a good ally to have, I promise.” Bucky still doesn’t look convinced, but he lets it go.

“After dinner, I thought we could play some cards, if you want. I picked up a pack at the store.” He’s truthfully getting tired of watching TV until three in the morning, and he figured Bucky might like cards.

“I don’t know any card games,” Bucky says, popping a grape in his mouth. Steve shrugs. “I’ll teach you. We used to play all the time as teens and even during the war if we had time. You mostly won,” he remembers with a frown. 

“I’ll try,” Bucky says, and helps Steve make chili for dinner.

***

They start out with Crazy Eights, move on to War, and then Rummy. Bucky is a quick learner and by the end Steve is glaring in annoyance. Bucky had won nearly every game.

“Again,” Bucky asks, holding the deck. Steve makes a face. “I think I’m good for tonight.” He gets a smirk out of Bucky though. “I think the word is sore loser.” Steve doesn’t dignify that with a reply. He returns their dirty bowls to the sink, and he watches as Bucky shuffles the cards. 

“I’ll get you back tomorrow,” he announces, and Bucky looks up and smirks. “We’ll see.”

Best two dollars ever spent.


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gets some unfortunate news.

Bucky dozes off in small doses. Five minutes here, another fifteen there. He claims it’s enough but the dark circles under his eyes say otherwise. Steve mostly stays silent about it. It’s not like Bucky’s a child. 

They play cards almost every evening, and one day Steve comes home with a six pack of Dos Equis and Bucky has his first beer in over seventy years. It takes him less than two minutes to empty the bottle. 

“Not bad,” he says, reaching for another bottle. Steve grins and deals the cards. They finish the beers before the game ends. He reminds himself to buy more than the six pack next time. He’s about to kick Bucky’s ass for once when his phone chimes. He glances over at it quickly and freezes, because he sees who it’s from. Sharon, Peggy’s great niece. 

He grabs the phone and reads the text.

**She’s gone. In her sleep.**

His eyes well up and his heart constricts. He’s still staring at the words in disbelief when he belatedly hears Bucky calling his name.

“Steve? What’s going on?”

He looks up but Bucky’s all blurry. He gets up, grabbing his phone and Tony’s car keys, stuffing both in his pockets. “Peggy’s gone. I have to go to the nursing home.” He can’t look at Bucky right now or he’ll lose it completely. He hurriedly puts on his sneakers and pauses at the door.

“I’m not sure when I’ll be back. Sorry to run out like this.” He’s out the door before Bucky responds. When he gets in the car, he grips the steering wheel hard enough to break and takes a minute to calm his breathing. He wipes his eyes and drives.

***

Dawn is just creeping in when he quietly makes his way upstairs. He’s about to take out his keys to unlock the door but it suddenly swings open and Bucky is right there, and his face is a mask of concern. Steve opens his mouth to speak but nothing happens. Instead, Bucky does something he’s never done: he places his arm on Steve’s shoulder and guides him inside.

Steve is too numb to process everything. He’s distracted by Bucky’s closeness as he’s led to the couch, and his mind is a painful throbbing of imagery he’d rather not think about. Bucky sits opposite him in the armchair, leaning forward, hands clasped together across his knees. He’s eyeing Steve like he doesn’t quite know what to do.

“It’s ok, Bucky. I’m ok.” It’s a fucking lie but it’s the best he’s got at the moment. He’s touched by Bucky’s concern, but that makes things even more unbearable, because Bucky is supposed to mourn with him for Peggy. He knew her, talked strategy with her, drank beer with her. They were friends, too. And now she’s gone and it’s just another link from his past that has disappeared. Like everything and everyone else. All except the man sitting across from him. Who barely remembers him.

He rubs his head, exhausted. He sat with her all night, holding her cold hand. He told her family he’d like to cover all the costs of the funeral and even though they resisted at first, given his and Peggy’s history, they eventually relented. 

He regrets not seeing her more. He did visit, leaving Bucky alone for a few hours a couple times a week. She was always glad to see him, but he could see her steady decline. Still, he should have made a better effort. He should have told her about Bucky. He should have told her many things. 

“I’m sorry about Peggy. She seemed like a special type of woman.”

Steve shuts his eyes. “She was the best type of woman. Beautiful and talented and she had great aim. You loved pairing up against her for drills. She shot better than half the guys on our team. She was something.”

“Would you have married her, if things had gone differently?” Bucky’s voice is soft and faraway, and Steve’s mind is drowsy and sad. “She was always way too good for me. I always felt small around her, even after the serum. I would've been too scared to even ask her for her hand.”

“I think she’d be happy and proud to see what you’ve become, how you turned out.”

Steve quirks his mouth with effort. “Thanks, pal.” Then all is quiet and dark.

***

He wakes to the pleasant smell of bacon cooking. He’s got a crick in his neck and he’s spread out awkwardly on the couch, much too large to fit on it entirely. He heaves himself up with a yawn and looks across to the kitchen.

Bucky is cooking, his hair pulled back, tongs in hand. He’s wearing a white tank and Steve’s lounge pants and the scene is so bizarre Steve can’t do much but stare for a minute.

“Morning. Got some bacon going, if you like,” Bucky proclaims without looking up from the frying pan. Steve gets up and follows the smell of bacon. “Wow, Buck, that looks great. You didn’t have to cook, though.”

Bucky shrugs, turning off the burner. “It’s fine, I don’t mind cooking. Plus, it’s late already and I wasn’t about to wait for you to finally wake up to make breakfast,” he throws a grin at Steve and his heart stills. Steve swallows, looking down at his feet. “How late is it?”

“Ten.” Bucky plates the bacon, along with some orange slices and hands one to Steve, who can’t believe he slept that long.

“Jeez, Bucky, you should have woken me up. Where did you end up last night?”

“Armchair. And it was fine. And I wasn’t going to wake you when you clearly needed to rest.”

Steve sighs. “Thank you, Buck,” he says sincerely. “And I’m sorry about last night. I wasn’t feeling all that hot.” Bucky stares at him as he grabs his own plate. “You just lost someone, Steve. Someone really close to you. You’re allowed to feel whatever you want.”

They sit down at the kitchen table. “Still, you could have taken my bed, you know. I feel bad.”

“You know I don’t sleep. The chair was fine.”

Steve frowns and picks up a piece of bacon with his fingers. “Did you make the whole pack of bacon?” Both plates are completely piled up. “Uh yeah. I figured we would eat it all.” Steve looks at the pile of cholesterol in front of them, realizes it doesn’t much matter since neither of them can be affected anyway. He shrugs and digs in.

Steve is mostly quiet, still thinking about Peggy. He should tell Sam. Later. 

“Do you wanna get outta here?” Steve looks up at Bucky in question. “What?”

“We’ve been cooped up in here forever. You look like you need some air. I’d really like to break free, myself.” He gives Steve a look that’s not quite pleading, but like Steve would deny him anything, anyway.

“You’re too recognizable.” Bucky just grins. “That’s the beauty of New York. People don’t notice shit. Plus, I’m really good at blending in.” The grin is still plastered on his face, and despite the pain in Steve’s heart, he finds himself mimicking his expression.

“Ok, you twisted my arm. But first, disguises.” He goes to his room and starts looking through his wardrobe. He doesn’t have much, but it really doesn’t take much to appear to be someone else. He finds some things for Bucky.

“Shorts, for where we’re going. Zip up, because your bionic arm is a bit famous at the moment. And of course, sunglasses,” he holds said glasses up, and Bucky nods in approval. He wrinkles his nose at the shorts. “Not sure they’re really me.”

“That’s the point. Go get dressed.” Bucky grabs all the items and goes to the bathroom. Meanwhile, Steve changes into shorts himself, with a blue fitted tee and his Dodgers baseball cap. Dark sunglasses finish off the look.

Bucky returns shortly after, all dressed. The cargo shorts actually look decent on him and the hoodie hides the arm, though not the hand. “I’ll keep them in my pockets,” he just says. His hair is tied back and he’s also got the dark glasses and his own faded cap on his head. With the beard he looks nothing like the Bucky Steve knows. 

“Perfect,” Steve declares. “Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” Bucky asks, even though this was his idea. They fly down the stairs and head to the car. 

“Coney Island. It was our favorite place in the summer.” Bucky looks at him with approval and Steve speeds away. It’s not a long drive, but it takes a while to find parking. The area is always crowded, full of tourists and locals alike. 

They end up bypassing the amusement park in favor of walking along the boardwalk. The breeze feels heavenly and neither of them look out of place. As promised, Bucky’s hands stay deep in his pockets and no one even glances their way. 

The sound of the gulls and kids playing, vendors selling, the thrill rides in the distance… it’s exactly what Steve needed. Bucky was right. They had spent too long cooped up inside. They walk side by side and before long they’re at the pier, staring down at the dark water. Strands of hair escape their bindings and whip around Bucky’s face.

They watch some locals fish and Bucky smiles at an older couple arguing in Russian. Steve asks what they’re arguing about. 

“Literally nothing important. But she’s winning.” Steve smirks. “There are a lot of Russians here now,” Bucky observes. “Before it was mostly Italians and some Germans.” Steve stops mid-step. Bucky looks back at him in question.

“Do you remember that?” he asks Bucky. “You remember coming here? Being here?”

Bucky takes off his sunglasses, a frown marring his face. “It’s not a memory, exactly. It’s just something I know. It’s hard to describe. It’s just a fact that lives in my head. But this is my first time coming back here, so I guess there must be a memory there, somewhere.”

Steve is somewhat disappointed, but it still gives him hope. “Well, you’re right about that, anyway. They call this place Little Odessa now. At least that part over there. Brighton. The vendors sell some really good Russian food. I don’t know what half of it is, but every time I’ve bought some I’m never disappointed. Bucky looks thoughtful.

“Can we walk over there? I’d like to try some of the food.” Steve smiles. “Yeah, let’s go.”

They cross the street and head down towards the more crowded part of Brighton. Bucky looks around, and sure enough, most of the shops and markets are Russian, but they don’t go inside any of them. They stick to the vendors outside, mostly older women selling delicious smelling food.

They find one woman selling various meats inside a baked dough. In fluent Russian, Bucky asks her which type of meat is inside which dough. In the end, he buys one of each, five total, and they slowly walk back to the car, taking large bites out of the food.

“This is kind of amazing,” Bucky muses, and Steve smiles. “So is your Russian. You could fit in here easily.” Bucky shrugs. “I’ve been speaking Russian longer than I’ve known English.” Steve thinks about his next question carefully.

“How many other languages do you know?”

“Fluently?” Bucky thinks for a second. “Seven. They were prepping me for Mandarin and Portuguese the last few times I was out of Cryo, so I only know a little bit.”

“Prepping you?” Steve is almost afraid to ask. “What exactly does that entail?” Bucky is silent for a moment, and Steve wonders if that was too insensitive to ask.

“It was a lot of lying down, strapped to a table while they attached nodules to my head. From there it’s implanted in my brain. Not physically, obviously. But it was like...they were programming me. I never asked questions. It was just part of the training.”

Steve’s jaw is clenched and his appetite lost by the time they reach the car. It’s sweltering inside and Bucky removes his hoodie. Steve for once is glad for the tinted windows. They drive in silence, and Steve just can’t stop thinking about what Bucky said. 

“What else did they plant inside your head?” Bucky turns to look at Steve, then back outside the window. “Nothing good.”

Steve sighs. “Is that how they were able to program you to do their bidding? Is that how they got you to comply?”

Bucky’s metal hand closes into a fist, releases. Steve catches all that through his periphery. 

“That was one of the ways,” he softly says. “They were very creative in their methods. It was never dull.”

“Did they hurt you?” Steve grits his teeth, hands tight around the wheel. “Pain is irrelevant,” Bucky intones, almost as if he’s reciting it. Steve feels ill. “And if they got a hold of you again, would they be able to get you to comply again?” 

“They won’t get a hold of me.” There’s a finality in his voice that suspends further lines of questioning. Steve leaves it alone, for now.

****

They take turns showering when they get home and when it’s Bucky’s turn, Steve takes that time to call Sam about Peggy.

“I’m real sorry to hear that, Cap. I know what she meant to you.”

“Thanks, Sam. It’s not like I didn’t know it was coming. It’s just strange. It feels like only yesterday when we were both in Germany, fighting a war. It still doesn’t quite feel real.”

“I can only imagine. How did Winter Soldier take the news?”

Steve rolls his eyes and sighs. “Bucky barely remembers her, which really kinda sucks. They were really good friends. But he’s been a real help to me. Trying to get me out of my funk.”

Sam makes a noise that sounds dubious but says nothing further. “Anyway, the funeral is three days from now. In case you know, you wanted to go.” Steve doesn’t really mean to invite Sam. It just sort of happens and he suddenly really doesn’t want to go to this thing alone.”

“I’ll be there,” promises Sam without hesitation. Steve releases a breath, thankful for his friend. “Thanks, Sam. Really.”

They hang up shortly after and Steve is too worn out to do anything productive. He sinks into the couch and waits for Bucky. He’s shirtless when he comes out of the bathroom and idly Steve thinks he should maybe order some more clothes for him. Not that he minds Bucky wearing his stuff but now he’s running out of clothes too… He hates doing laundry.

“Was that Sam you were talking to?” Bucky asks, sitting next to Steve. “Yeah, I was telling him about Peggy. He’s going to go to the funeral with me.” Bucky looks at him. “You know I can go with you, too.”

“It’s too risky. This isn’t a busy boardwalk. I can’t risk anyone seeing you.”

“I won’t be seen.”

Even now, Steve can’t help but smile. “I wish it didn’t have to be like this. Even now, the world knows exactly what Hydra is, what Shield is. What they’re capable of. And still they’re out for your blood.”

Bucky looks down at his lap, and shrugs. “I’m still a killer, Steve, it doesn’t matter that the public thinks I was brainwashed into it. They want their justice. They want answers. I told you before, you don’t know the half of it. Because if you did, you’d be itching to turn me in, too.”

“Jesus, Buck, we’ve been over this. Why are you so set on having me hate you? Because it’s not gonna work. I don’t know all the details, you’re right. But I know enough.”

Bucky stares at Steve silently, his eyes widening slightly in realization. “You don’t _want_ to know. You don’t want the gory, dirty details because the more you know, the more you’ll doubt. It’s one thing to know your friend was brainwashed for decades and made to do things, it's quite another to find out what those things really were.

“How many people do you think I’ve killed, Steve? How many women? Children? How many foreign diplomats, or royals? What about presidents? Does JFK ring a bell at all?”

Steve blanches, his jaw hard, but Bucky is relentless. “That was a great shot, even I have to admit it. The angle was fairly tricky, and I wasn’t even sure I’d be able to pull it off. I was even able to stick around for a minute, just to make sure I had completed my mission. Do you know what Hydra gave me as a reward? A _woman_. They just threw her at me like candy. I was so riled up after the mission, she tried to lay a hand on my chest and I snapped her neck. 

“That was the first and last time they tried that. I think they were pissed that they couldn't have a go at her after I was done with her. They put me back in Cryo that night. It’s amazing the things one remembers,” he finishes with a bitter sneer.

Steve feels ill. He knows what Bucky is trying to do and the insane and slightly worrying part is, it’s not working even a little. Yes, the words are horrible, loathsome, abhorrent. Which is why Steve is convinced more than ever that Hydra will pay- for everything. Because he knows Bucky, and that, all that Bucky was ranting about, that is not Bucky. 

But he stays quiet for too long and Bucky must have thought he hit home, because he storms out, grabbing a tee in the bedroom, and escaping through the balcony. Steve is too mentally tired to stop him. He knows he’ll be back. Because he knows Bucky.

***

The day of Peggy’s funeral dawns and Bucky still hasn’t returned. Steve is concerned, but more annoyed than anything, at Bucky’s persistent stubbornness. Luckily Sam arrives early that morning to distract him.

Steve gets dressed up, sighing as he fixes his tie, and meets Sam at a local breakfast diner they both know. Steve debates telling Sam about his apartment, but then worries it might be a betrayal of Bucky’s trust. Although then he realizes that Bucky is the one who stormed out, and it’s his damn apartment and he can tell anyone he wants to. He regrets the thought seconds later.

Steve’s already in a booth when he spots Sam. He gets up to greet him, notices he’s all dressed up as well. He idly wonders if he’s found a place to stay.

“Hey, Cap.” He pulls him into a hug, and Steve suddenly realizes he’s missed this. Not the physical contact so much. Just, being close to another human being. He hides his morose expression before Sam questions him.

“Hey, Sam, good to see you. Thanks again for coming.” They take a seat opposite each other. 

“Of course, man. I told you before, whatever you need.” Steve smiles in gratitude, and then the waitress arrives. They place their orders and relax in their seats. They chat for a while, catching up, and once again Steve is struck by how much he missed their interactions. It’s so easy-going, so natural. It’s the opposite of him and Bucky, currently. The thought is disheartening.

Eventually it’s time to go, and Steve pays the bill. The church where the funeral will be is a few blocks away, so they get in their cars and make their way over. The parking situation is horrid. Peggy was obviously a very popular person and it looks like it will be a packed house. Steve ends up parking a few blocks away and walking in the heat and full suit to the church.

He and Sam are ushered more to the front by Peggy’s kids and they sit somberly for the service to begin. Steve feels depressed and tense during the service, but his mind keeps wandering to Bucky, wondering where he is right now. He hates not knowing. It’s concerning. And distracting.

When the service is over, he converses quietly with some of Peggy’s family, hugging quite a few people in the process. He introduces Sam to Sharon, and they spend a few minutes catching up. When it’s polite to do so, he and Sam make their exit. 

The sun is already burning hotly above them and it’s not helping that they’re wearing suits. They still have to go to the burial and the coalition shortly, so changing is not an option. As opposed to the church service, the burial is supposed to be a private affair, with close family only in attendance. But they would not hear of Steve missing out. Sam mentions he’ll wait in the car for him, but Sharon insists that they both come.

They end up taking Steve’s car, simply for the company. Steve promises to get Sam back to his car later on. “There’s a reason I moved away from here,” Sam replies warily. “I better have all my tires on that car by the time we get back.” Steve smirks as he drives. “I’ll owe you one,” he responds. 

“Mmhmm,” Sam wryly mumbles. “Damn right you will.” 

***

Steve’s heart is heavy and his mind dark by the time they reach the small restaurant where the coalition takes place. There were many tears shed at the cemetery and he is glad to be away from there. He finds a seat with Sam and they sit quietly for a while, until more guests arrive.

Steve makes his decision. “So remember when I said Bucky was staying with me?” Sam stops mid-bite of his cake. “Yes…”

“Well, what I failed to mention was that we’re staying in a place I own here. No one knows about it. I never told anyone I bought it and I didn’t even use my own name because I was paranoid about privacy. I think only Nick Fury and Natasha knows it exists. And now you. Well and Bucky of course, who somehow found out. It’s kind of eerie.

“Anyway, I know you got a hotel and all, but I thought you might like to see the place while you’re here? Maybe once we get out of here?”

“I’m down for that. But I gotta say, it makes me slightly nervous that Barnes is staying with you. How do you sleep at night?”

“Sam.”

He knows Sam is only joking, but still. Sam puts his arms up in surrender. “Yeah, I get it. I’m just messing with you. But I think it’s out of my system now,” he smirks, and Steve can’t help but mimic it.

“Alright, let’s get out of here.”

***

Sam whistles as they pull up to the brownstone. “Well, well, well, looky here. This seems a bit hoity- toity for Captain America, no?” Steve rolls his eyes as he gets out of the car.

“I just really appreciate the old architecture. Reminds me of my home. Well, not quite as luxurious, but you know what I mean. Anyway, it’s not even the whole house. I just own the second floor,” he finishes defensively. Sam pats him on the shoulder, grinning.

They walk upstairs and as soon as he turns the knob, his heightened senses go into overdrive. He’s got his arm out, automatically blocking Sam from potential risk. Sam freezes in confusion and looks inside the apartment. Steve’s instantly relieved because Bucky is standing in the middle of the room.


	6. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky makes a change. Steve has a chat with Tony.

Silence reigns for a brief second and Steve can feel Sam moving into a defensive stance. But his eyes remain on Bucky, who’s standing there with a plate of food in his hands. He’s dressed in dark, fitted chinos and a deep gray button down that’s been rolled up to his elbows. His hair is tied back in a messy bun. Steve stares longer than he probably should.

“Hey, Steve,” Bucky finally says, forking a piece of chicken and taking a bite. Steve relaxes marginally. “Bucky. I didn’t know you were here.”

“Is that a problem?” Bucky asks with a strange tone to his voice that Steve doesn’t miss. “What? No, of course not. You just surprised me, is all. I uh, hope you don’t mind, I invited Sam over. We just came from the funeral.”

“I know. And this is your home. You can do as you like.”

Steve frowns at the placidity in Bucky’s voice. It’s odd and unnerving. He realizes his arm is still blocking the way and he hastily puts it down so Sam can step forward. Bucky eyes Sam flatly and skewers another piece of chicken.

Sam, for his part, gives Bucky a wide berth as he steps over the threshold. He too eyes Bucky with much more open hostility. Steve nearly rolls his eyes. “Bucky, how’d you know where we came from?” He has a suspicion but he waits for Bucky to talk.

“Because I was there. At the church. At the cemetery. I came back here afterwards.”

That explains the clothing. Steve doesn’t ask where he got them from, and he doesn’t bother asking how Bucky could be so careless as to expose himself in a public place like that. If he didn’t notice Bucky, no one else did either. It is a small blessing.

Bucky’s eyes dart between Steve and Sam. “I grabbed some Chinese. There should be plenty.”

Something inside Steve softens. A smile tugs at his lips. “Thanks, Bucky. We ate not too long ago but I’m sure I’ll grab some for dinner. Oh. And this is Sam.”

Bucky eyes Sam indifferently. “We’ve met.” Steve does roll his eyes. “Sam, you remember Bucky.” He grits his teeth.

“Barnes,” Sam says flatly. Steve sighs. “Guys, please. Can we not_ do_ this? I’ve had a long day, I’d really rather not. Can we just...sit down at least?” No one moves for a beat but then Bucky sighs and walks over to the armchair, drooping into it, plate in his lap. Steve follows suit and sits on the couch. Sam joins him, sitting next to Steve. Bucky continues with his eating.

The atmosphere is frigid, and Steve doesn’t know how to diffuse the tension. This is not how he envisioned his evening going. Especially after the day he’s had. He sighs audibly, clasps his hands together.

“So,” he begins. “Anyone up for a game of cards?”

***

They end up playing Crazy Eights and after the second game the atmosphere isn’t quite so hostile. Bucky and Sam end up glaring quite a bit but at least no one tries to kill anyone. Bucky wins twice and Sam takes the last game, then insists on teaching them poker. It takes them a while to get into a groove; it’s a much more complicated game than any of the card games they’re used to.

It’s nearly ten when Sam wins and grabs the pennies that they’ve been playing with. “That was somewhat painful,” he exclaims, smacking Steve’s leg playfully. Bucky’s eyes are like daggers, but Steve doesn’t remark on it. “So is this what you guys do all evening? Play cards for hours?”

Steve shrugs, stacking up all the cards. “Gotta lay low. Until this whole mess blows over, Bucky needs to keep out of sight.” Sam gives him a look. “Cap, somehow I don’t think this is blowing over any time soon.” Sam’s eyes find Bucky’s. “And I think you know that. So what are you planning on doing? Hiding out at Steve’s forever?”

“Sam, I’ve told Bucky he can stay as long as he wants. No one knows about this place.”

Sam stands up. “I get it, but for how long? There’s gotta be some kind of plan. You can’t babysit him forever.” Steve sighs. “Sam, really. It’s not like that.”

“He’s right,” Bucky says, and Steve turns to him, frowning. “This was never a great plan, anyway. You’re Captain America. People will notice sooner or later. I’m putting you at risk by staying here.”

Steve feels cold, out of sorts. This really has been a shitty day. “Bucky, I’m not changing my mind. And this is the safest place for you right now.”

“I don’t need you to keep me safe, Steve. I think I’ve done a fairly decent job of it this past year.”

Steve just stares at Bucky as Sam looks down at the floor. Finally, Steve stands up. “I’m bringing Sam back to his car. I’ll see you later.” He grabs his keys and heads for the door, hoping Sam is right behind him. When he gets outside, it’s a couple minutes before Sam joins him.

“I’m just trying to help him,” Steve blurts out, fiddling with his keys. Sam walks over to him and side by side they head to the car. “I know, man. But you gotta remember, he’s either been on his own, or under the control of Hydra. He doesn’t know you. Not really. He may find he doesn’t want your help, or anyone’s. He’s a ticking time bomb. Christ, Steve, did you get a good look at him at all? He looks strung out as hell.”

Steve purses his lips. “He refuses to sleep. It’s been days. He’s not always...himself when he wakes up, so he’s fighting his need to sleep. And I can handle Bucky, Sam,” he says with a note of finality. Sam stops in his tracks.

“Last I checked, you had about two stab wounds and three shot wounds that were nearly fatal. All courtesy of the man living with you.”

Steve is too exhausted to fight with Sam about this. “He pulled me from that river. He could have let me die. He was strong enough to break through. Now I’m gonna break through to him.” He continues walking and eventually Sam catches up.

He drives Sam to his car, which is thankfully still where they left it, all four wheels in place. Before Sam gets out, he turns to Steve. “Look out for yourself, Cap. If you need anything, anything at all, call me, text me, whatever.”

Steve clasps him on the shoulder. “Thanks, Sam. I really appreciate you coming with me today. And for everything else. And-” he looks away briefly. “I know Bucky’s not well. He may never be as he was. I’m not blind to that. But I’m all he has. I can't and won’t abandon him.” Sam stares at him for a beat, then nods in understanding. They say their goodbyes and Steve is already dreaming of his bed.

****

Not wanting to wake up his downstairs neighbor, whom he still has never actually met, he slowly trudges up the stairs and quietly unlocks his door. It’s dark inside, not even a table lamp on. Steve looks around and doesn’t see Bucky anywhere. Frowning, he walks towards his bedroom.

The balcony doors are wide open and he can see there’s no one on the bed. Curiously, he wanders over and notices a hunched over form leaning against the balcony railing. For a minute, panic sets in, but he can see from where he stands the slow rise and fall of Bucky’s frame. His relief is short lived however, because Bucky is _sleeping._

Slipping his shoes off, he slowly walks outside on the balcony. Bucky’s head is tipped forward, his long hair obscuring his entire face. He’s wearing Steve’s lounge pants and a tight tank. Next to him is his ash tray with a few squashed butts. His arms lie limp beside him. 

Steve stares a long moment, his own dreams of sleep long forgotten. Briefly, he debates waking him up. First off, he looks uncomfortable. But secondly, he’s a bit nervous about Bucky’s frame of mind once he wakes. He lets out a shaky sigh and takes a seat on the opposite side of the balcony, right across from him. The hard floor is not at all comfortable, but he decides to wait there until Bucky wakes up.

He stares at Bucky’s still form for a long time. Exhaustion had finally beaten the Winter Soldier. He suppresses another sigh, checks his watch, and settles in as comfortably as he can. The air is arid and the breeze occasionally ruffles Bucky’s hair. But for three hours he doesn’t stir.

Steve’s got his knees to his chest, his pale feet flat on the cool floor, watching the sky grow paler by the minute, when he notices movement. Bucky finally lifts his head, his face groggy and scrunched up. He opens his eyes and looks straight at Steve. No one moves. Steve’s heart beats wildly but he doesn’t break eye contact.

“What time is it?” Bucky asks him hoarsely and Steve exhales. “Four.” Bucky yawns and tilts his head against the railing. 

“Were you out here this whole time?” Bucky move his shoulders around, trying to loosen all the kinks from sleep. The plates on his cybernetic arm shift subtly.

“Yeah,” says Steve. 

“Sorry.” Bucky sighs and finally stands up, towering over Steve. He offers his arm to Steve, who gladly takes it. He’s pulled up in a beat, almost flush with Bucky. He takes a step back, looks down. “Don’t be sorry. It was fine. I’m just glad you’re ok.” Bucky watches him thoughtfully.

“Today, I am. Next time, can’t say.”

Steve nods tiredly and Bucky twitches his head back towards the bedroom. “You’d better get some sleep. Looks like you need it.” Steve doesn’t argue. Doesn’t even remember getting into bed. But he sleeps for eight hours straight.

***

When Steve makes his way to the living room during the afternoon, he gets a massive shock that stills him instantly. Bucky’s in the kitchen cooking and as he turns to greet him, Steve’s mouth parts of its own accord.

Bucky’s hair is all gone. Shorn almost to the scalp. The beard, too. The clean-shaven, army look makes Steve’s heart lurch unpleasantly. He is staring at a Bucky from over seventy years ago. It is uncanny and memories assault him without mercy. He plasters on a smile.

“Wow. That’s quite the difference, Buck.” He walks over, can’t help but get close to inspect the work. Bucky shrugs. “Felt like a change. Can’t imagine I’d get recognized now.” Steve finds that very hard to believe. Bucky has always been a striking figure. Steve would recognize him from across a baseball field. He clears his throat. “I would have done it for you, you know. I’m sure the hair was a pain.”

Bucky plates something and hands it to Steve. Pancakes and fruit. He smiles in thanks. “It wasn’t too bad,” Bucky replies. “You had a buzzer in the cabinet. It was a spur of the moment decision.”

They both sit at the table and Steve can’t stop staring at the new Bucky. “It was a good decision. I like it,” he says honestly. Bucky lowers his head and Steve would swear he’s embarrassed by the attention. 

“Well, like I said, should make going out in public a bit easier now. Though this is a bit harder to hide,” he lifts his left arm and smiles ruefully. Steve throws him a sympathetic glance. They eat for a bit, Steve impressed with how good the pancakes came out.

“Did you sleep well?” Bucky asks him after, and every time he meets his eyes Steve’s brain has to remember that this is not the Bucky from his past. It is just so jarring; it’ll take a while to get used to the new look.

“Uh, yeah, surprisingly. I think I really needed that. Yesterday was...tough.” Bucky nods somberly, takes Steve’s plate and brings it to the sink. Steve watches his back, notices where the short hair stops just at the nape of his neck. His phone vibrates. 

Clumsily he grabs at it, notices it’s a text from Tony. “Hey, Tony’s asking if I could pop round today. Do you mind if I go see him?” Bucky’s back is still turned to him, but Steve notices Bucky tense up suddenly. 

“Why would I mind? You’re free to do whatever you like. See whoever you want.”

The way he says it is strange to Steve. Too clinical. Too impersonal, even for Bucky. “Want me to pick you up something on my way back? You good for smokes?”

Bucky finally turns around. “I should be ok. I picked some up while I was out.” Steve eyes him thoughtfully. “Where are you getting money from? And please don’t say you’re stealing it.” Bucky blinks at him. “I know my way around an ATM,” he responds cryptically, and Steve doesn’t ask further. 

He takes a shower shortly after and gets dressed. It’s another hot, muggy day in Brooklyn but Steve doesn’t mind so much. He’s just happy to be back in the town he loves. He tells Bucky bye and sets off to see Tony.

***

He finds Tony dressed down for once, casual and relaxed. He has a drink ready for Steve as he walks in. Steve smiles in thanks and takes a sip of the cocktail. He can’t ever get drunk, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy a nice drink once in a while. 

“So, Cap, how are things? I heard about your gal. Sorry to hear. Dad talked fondly of her throughout the years.”

Steve throws Tony an appreciative look. “Thanks, Tony. It’s been sorta rough. Losing her just as I’ve found her. I keep thinking what could have been. But I know she was happy, in the end. Surrounded by her family and loved ones. I’m just glad to have known her.”

Tony raises his own glass. “To Peggy Carter.” Steve mimics the gesture. “To Peggy.”

They talk casually for a while, Tony showing Steve some digital plans of some prototype suits and even flying vehicles. Steve is impressed, as usual, and he asks a lot of questions. It’s the most normal conversation he’s ever had with Tony, he thinks. And then Tony lays his trap.

He pours Steve another drink. “So, funny thing, technology,” he begins and Steve nods his head to continue. “I mean, take a look at the car you borrowed, for example. State of the art everything, but it comes with something almost every new car on the market has. A GPS tracker.” Steve takes a sip, but his pulse speeds up inexplicably.

Tony goes on. “I was curious, as you know I tend to get... Any who, you mentioned you’ve been staying near Peggy’s nursing home, but oddly enough, the GPS tracker on my car has it pinned at a lovely little street in Brooklyn on a daily basis. It’s an interesting, old neighborhood. Gorgeous pre-war brownstones. Not too many on the block. My curiosity went a bit further, I guess you’d say. 

“It’s very easy to do a search of properties. It’s all online, really. Anyone can find just about anything. For example, when I pulled up the tax assessor’s listings on that particular street, do you know what I found?”

Steve is motionless, staring at Tony in dawning realization. Like a fucking car wreck you know you can’t avoid. Tony continues like he’s not perfectly aware of the look Steve is throwing him.

“One particular owner stuck out. I didn’t find a Steve Rogers listed anywhere. But I did find a Sarah Rogers. Wasn’t that the name of your mom?” Steve doesn’t answer, just coldly glares.

“Hmm, thought so. And then I was _really_ curious, as you can imagine. So I sent one of my little drones over. They’re tiny, about the size of a hummingbird,” he explains proudly. “Do you know what the drone picked up? Heat signatures. Two heat signatures.” He says nothing else.

“You spied on me.” Steve finally says mildly, though he wants to stand up and throttle Tony to death. “Of course you did. There’s nothing that’s beneath you.”

Tony sighs. “Look. It’s not what you think. There’s nothing nefarious about this. I’m just telling you because now we can both stop pretending I’m actually going to help you find your friend. There’s no need, am I right?”

Steve clenches his jaw. “What are you going to do about it?”

Tony frowns. “Do? Nothing. Why would I do anything? Do you honestly think I would alert the government that you're bunking up with your war buddy? What type of person do you take me for, Cap?” Tony scoffs mockingly. Steve’s glare doesn’t leave his face.

“Bucky found me. He had nowhere else to go, so of course I offered him my place. I’m attempting to help him and no he’s not a danger to myself or anyone else. Any more questions, Tony?”

“Yeah. Can I meet him?”

Shock reverberates throughout Steve. “What? Are you out of your mind? He’d go berzerk if he even found out you knew. Do you know how much I had to convince him that he’s safe there? That no one would find him? And you think he’d just honestly agree to meet you?” The incredulous look stays frozen on his face. 

“I’m not a threat to him. I could even maybe help him. Plus, I’d kill for a close look at that arm.”

Steve rolls his eyes with annoyance and stands to leave. “If you attempt to come near him, I can’t promise things will go well.” Tony puts his hands up. “Woah, there’s no need for threats, Cap. I’ll keep out of the way, scout’s honor. But maybe ask your guy. You never know, he may have an interest to meet with me.”

Steve purses his lips. “If anything changes, I’ll let you know.” He stalks out, not even caring that he’s taking Tony’s car back with him.

***

He’s a bundle of nerves as he walks into his apartment. He should have known. He should have been smarter. This was an amateur risk on his part. And he never should have trusted Tony. Now, a man who has endless contacts, associates and close friends in the government, knows Bucky’s whereabouts. And it’s up to Steve to figure out what to do with that knowledge.

He should immediately tell Bucky. If he is compromised, Bucky should flee. It should be his decision to do so. But as Steve comes home, and finds Bucky casually snacking on chips and a warm smile for Steve in greeting, he realizes he can’t tell him. At least not yet. Yes, it’s selfish as hell. But he doesn’t want Bucky to leave. 

“Hey, how’d it go?” Buck asks him. Steve waves him off, and plops next to him on the couch. “Eh, I think he was just bored and wanted company. All he has is his machines and AI to talk to.” His knee is almost touching Bucky’s and the mere fact that he has to think about that is driving him insane, when decades ago, he’d be practically in his lap in some bunker or tent. But he doesn’t move over.

Bucky is quiet but for the crunching of chips. He offers the bag to Steve, who sticks his hand inside. The TV is playing some older court drama and he mindlessly watches for a few minutes. 

“Is he like Howard,” Bucky quietly asks. Steve turns his head. “Do you remember Howard?” When Bucky doesn’t answer, Steve sighs, but answers the question. “He’s got the same arrogance, the same drive for innovation, for perfection. So in some ways, yes, I guess they are fairly similar. Tony’s got more humor though. It’s not everyone’s cup of tea.” He shrugs, eyes still on Bucky.

He’s about to tell him. It’s on the tip of his tongue. But cowardness wins out and he turns back to the tv. The chips are all gone and Bucky licks his fingers clean. Steve pretends not to notice.

They play cards after and Bucky wins easily. Steve’s mind is just not in the game. Bucky notices with a raised brow. “You ok?”

“Are you asking because you genuinely care, or because you think something is wrong?” He’s not sure why he says it. Bucky quirks his head to the side. “Why can’t it be both?”

Steve sighs, frustrated with everything. But Bucky is looking at him like he’s trying to puzzle him out and Steve just wishes he could talk to him. Really talk. He’s never kept a secret from Bucky. He hates himself for it. Maybe he’s overreacting. Maybe Bucky won’t even get upset about Tony. He mentally grimaces.

“Got a smoke?”

***

They end up on the balcony, seated on the actual furniture for once. Bucky watches with a raised brow as Steve attempts to smoke. It’s a fucking disaster and he ends up choking twice. But he’s never backed down from anything. And it's not like his asthma will return. He takes another drag, getting used to the flavor. It’s not great. He’s not sure what Bucky-or anyone- gets out of this.

Bucky takes a puff, eyes never leaving Steve. Steve is aware of the gaze on him, but he chooses to watch the skyline, the setting sun bathing everything in warm, glowing hues. There are sounds all around him, and his amplified hearing picks them all up, but he’s become quite good at drowning it all out. 

He finishes his cigarette and leans forward, grinding the rest into the floor of the balcony. Bucky’s on his second, and he does it in a way Steve never could. Everything Bucky did came off as easy, suave. Even now, Steve feels like an idiot. Can’t even smoke a cigarette properly…

“I remember her. Peggy.” Bucky suddenly says, and Steve turns his eyes on him. “What?”

“Not from before. But her name was in files. Photos, too. Hydra was keeping an eye on her for years. Decades. Shield was still in one piece at the time. But Hydra quietly had its claws inside. She never knew. But if she had found out…” he leaves the last park unspoken.

“Would they have sent you?” Steve wonders aloud. 

“Yes.” 

Steve just nods, not surprised. Bucky looks away, his eyes tired. “We’d still be right here, Bucky. You can’t help what you don’t have control over.” Bucky turns to him, incredulous.

“I just told you your old girlfriend had a perpetual target on her and you just brush it off?”

Steve is tired. “I won’t say it wouldn’t hurt. Wouldn’t kill. But it doesn’t change the facts of the situation. You’re all I got left, Buck.”

“You’re delusional.” Bucky goes back inside. Steve stays a bit longer, wondering why he doesn’t feel the words as keenly as he should. 

***

That night he dreams of Bucky dying. It’s always the same, but this time he knows what actually happened to him. He still can’t help anything. He reaches and reaches but Bucky drops, screaming into oblivion. In the dream, he drops forever. Steve can’t look away. But the dream changes and he's on the Helicarrier and Bucky is pointing a gun at his head. No recognition on his face. Steve doesn’t get a word out before the gun goes off.

He bolts awake, and it’s pitch black around him. He’s sweating and breathing ragged and he hasn’t had a nightmare like that in a long while. Also, there’s someone in bed with him. He turns to his left and Bucky is sitting up against the headboard, on the far side of the bed. Steve blinks in confusion.

“You were thrashing around. I came to check on you and I assumed it was a nightmare. Should I have woken you?”

Steve wipes his face with his tee, tries to get his breathing under control. “I’m fine. I’ve had this nightmare before. Nothing new.” He sits himself up as well and pulls off his soaked tee. 

“I have nightmares too, now. In Cryo, it’s different. You might as well be dead. But _now_.”

Steve nods in understanding. “I thought if I kept busy, did work with the Avengers, they would go away. But all I did was sleep less. I very rarely have anything nice to dream about.”

“What do you dream?” Bucky asks, and the question is personal, but Steve doesn’t hesitate. “You. Dying. It’s almost always the same. Sometimes I dream of darkness and cold. Frozen for eternity in the ice. But I’m awake and aware. And I’m miles under the ocean and no one can hear me.”

Bucky’s eyes are lost. Steve can’t bear to look at them. “I should let you rest,” Bucky says quietly, sliding off the bed.

“What do you dream?” Steve asks him. Bucky pauses and for a minute Steve thinks he won’t answer.

“I dream of faces. They’re all staring me down. Because of what I did to them. I dream of being strapped down to a table. But when I wake up I can’t figure out if it was a dream, or a memory. I can still feel the metal braces against my arms and legs. The fire in my head.”

“Maybe we’re both fucked up,” Steve comments. 

“Maybe.”

***

  
  



	7. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the comments/questions! Truly makes my day!

Bucky’s whole body is covered in marks. They’re all faded, but Steve notices them all the same. Aside from the massive amount of scarring around his left shoulder, his back is littered with faint marks, puckered scars and a large knife wound that trails from just above his kidney, to around his hip. 

Steve only knows all this because it’s nearly ninety in his apartment and they’ve both given up wearing shirts while at home. The first time Bucky catches him staring, he doesn’t get self-conscious or upset. Just casually points to the largest scar and says: “1976, Ukraine. My team was ambushed and we ended up jammed in a tiny windowless room. The brute was on me before I even realized it. Gashed me in the mess of bodies around me. The serum was the only thing that kept me alive.”

Steve purses his lips as bile rises in his throat. “I don’t want your pity,” Bucky says casually, pointedly. “You’re not responsible for this. If you get to say it to me, then I get to say it back.” Steve doesn’t respond, but lets it go. 

He shakes his head, tries to imagine a world he can’t picture. A world with an assassin like Bucky making his rounds, fixing Hydra’s problems. It’s horrific to think he slept through all that. “It’s a good thing there’s just one of you,” Steve quips to lighten the mood. It does the complete opposite actually.

Bucky freezes, eyes going dark. He blinks hard, turns away from Steve, who watches nervously from a short distance away. “Buck?” The other man doesn’t move so Steve walks over, dares to get closer. They’re in the kitchen and there’s not much space but he crowds into Bucky purposely. “What’s wrong?”

Bucky’s shoulders are tense as he grips the countertop. Steve’s afraid he’s gonna crack the granite any minute. He wants to lay a hand on his back, but again, he can’t make himself get that close. It’s like he’s going to shatter whatever peace they’ve formed. But he knows Bucky’s aware of the proximity.

Suddenly, Bucky turns, inches from Steve, his face set and determined. Steve can make out every hue of blue in his eyes. The shorter hair makes his face more angular and his eyes that more vivid. He doesn’t dare move.

It’s like Bucky’s been grappling with something deeper than Steve can reach because he eyes Steve with an almost panicked look. Steve’s throat constricts because Bucky’s obviously in some kind of pain and he still won’t latch onto him, not even to comfort him. But his eyes never leave Bucky’s and he hopes that’s enough.

“I’m not.” Bucky swallows. “The only one. The only Winter Soldier. There are more.” 

At first Steve can’t comprehend the words coming out of Bucky’s mouth. He’s still for a moment, blinking in confusion. But Bucky still has that slightly panicked expression on his face.

“What? What does that mean?”

“I was the first Winter Soldier. Molded, perfected, completely controlled. And when Hydra was satisfied with their experiment, they decided it was time to recruit more. Only… it didn’t work out exactly as planned.” He pauses, and Steve swears he can hear his heart hammering.

“Bucky. What the hell are you talking about? Are you saying Hydra made more of you?” Bucky nods once and Steve steps back, completely caught off guard.

“Jesus, Bucky! Are you fucking kidding me? Why haven’t you mentioned this before? There are other super soldiers and they could be anywhere in the world!” He knows he sounds completely hysterical, but he thinks the situation calls for it.

Bucky licks his lips, looks slightly less like death. “I… don’t think anything’s been done with them. I think they’re still in Cryo, back in Siberia. Where I was kept.”

“Why do you assume that?”

Bucky takes a deep breath. “Because I told you, something went wrong with them. Hydra couldn’t control them. They were insanely strong, stronger than even me. But it was nearly impossible to get them to listen. They killed guards, doctors, just for looking at them wrong. Hydra couldn’t risk them getting out. They were all placed back in Cryo. This was at least fifteen years ago.”

Steve runs a hand through his hair. “Holy shit, Bucky. Why in the hell did you never mention this before?” He’s suddenly angry, furious. This information wouldn’t hurt Bucky, it would only help him. Why would he never share that?

“I honestly didn’t remember.”

“Bullshit.”

“I didn’t! Fuck, Steve I told you my head is fucked up! Do you know how many times I’ve been in and out of Cryo since the other failed soldiers were put in? My brain was wiped every time. It was by accident that I remember any part of them at all. I helped train them. I fought with them. There are some things I still remember but, damn it, it’s not as simple as just reaching for a memory!” He’s breathing hard and his eyes are nearly black. Steve puts his palms up.

“Calm down, Bucky. It’s ok, I’m sorry, ok?”

Bucky’s jaw is clenched, his eyes wild with tension. Fuck it, Steve thinks and steps forward, placing both hands on Bucky’s arms, locking him in place. Bucky instantly freezes but makes no move to disarm Steve. The flesh muscles beneath Steve’s hands are tense and shaking. He looks him in the eye.

“You’re ok. You’re good.” He doesn’t know who he’s trying to convince, himself or Bucky. But after a minute, Bucky calms down enough to take a deep breath, and makes a move to step backwards. Steve immediately lets him go, his eyes never leaving the other man’s.

“It wasn’t trying to keep it from you. One minute it didn’t exist and then you said what you said and it all came crashing down.”

“I know. It’s ok. I’m sorry I freaked out on you. I just tried to picture a world where there were more soldiers like you and I envisioned the worst.” Bucky nods slowly, rubs at his brow. “I need a minute.” He walks around Steve, grabbing his pack of cigarettes from the table. When Steve hears the sound of the balcony door opening, he releases his own breath, and runs the tap, splashing cool water on his face.

Maybe Bucky really didn’t remember about the other soldiers until Steve’s comment triggered something inside, but that doesn’t mean he truly knows they’re still inactive. Still in Cryo. It’s a huge gamble to just leave it alone. People have to know about this. He worries his bottom lip until it bleeds, and idly thinks of Tony.

***

It’s some time later when they’re both seated at the table, picking at their half-eaten dinner. Steve watches Bucky pensively. The other man is clearly troubled, his eyes faraway. Who knows what other horrors were still locked away deep in Bucky’s mind. Steve pushes his plate away and leans forward.

“Bucky. I... had a thought. Something that might help you. Help us.” Bucky’s eyes find his, wary and dark. Steve takes a breath. “Look. The stuff you told me, it can’t just be ignored. But I feel like the right sort of people need to look into it. I get it, right now you don’t trust anyone, and frankly, I’m there with you. I’m not saying go to the US government or what’s left of Shield. I’m saying, what if there was someone we could trust to...investigate this.”

Bucky says nothing, but Steve takes this as a good sign. “There’s not many people I trust. But there is one man that I not only trust with this knowledge, but I’d trust him around you. And he’s brilliant, and has resources and can truly help us.” He licks his lips, his throat completely dry.

“Tony Stark.”

The reaction is startling. Bucky recoils like a snake ready to pounce. He gets up and places both fists on the table, leaning close to Steve.

“Are you insane? _Stark_? He’s practically in bed with the government, and the military!”

“Bucky, it’s not like that. He’s perfectly aware of what’s going on around him. He trusts people even less than I do. Yes, sometimes he uses people for gain, but he’s an Avenger and he knows what needs to be done. If he found out about that Hydra base in Siberia, do you really think he’ll alert the government or the media or anyone else? Iron Man will take care of it by nightfall. He’s good at doing the right thing.”

Bucky scoffs, and Steve can see the angry blaze in his eyes from where he sits. “Bucky, someone needs to do something.” Bucky glares down at him. “Hydra’s mine. I’ll take care of them myself when the time is right.” He pushes back and stalks off towards the bedroom.

Steve heaves a sigh. “He knows.” Bucky stops in his tracks, and very slowly turns around. Steve doesn’t meet his eyes. “Tony knows about you. That you’re here.” Finally, he looks up and Bucky gaze is panicked and angry.

“You told him?” Somehow the words sound like the worst sort of betrayal has been committed. Before Steve can respond, Bucky stalks into the bedroom. Steve hurriedly follows. Instead of the balcony, Bucky heads to the corner of the room, where he’s been keeping his backpack. A sort of panic hits Steve all at once.

“Bucky, stop. I didn’t tell him, I swear. He figured it out. I told you, he’s a fucking genius. And yes a pain in the ass. He tracked his car to this property. He’s known for a while.” Bucky glares at him.

“And when did he tell _you_?” Steve is silent for a second and Bucky just shakes his head, grabs his pack. Steve walks over. “Don’t go,” he pleads. “Please, Bucky. We can work through this. If you trust me, please trust Tony.”

“Get out of my way, Steve.” 

Steve doesn’t budge and Bucky’s eyes grow cold. “Please, Buck, don’t leave. I don’t care if you stay here forever, but someone needs to know about the other soldiers and maybe the three of us can stop all this. And Tony can make that happen. He really wants to meet you.”

For some reason this was the wrong thing to say because a series of emotions quickly pass across Bucky’s face and he has to take a breath to steady himself. “Move, Steve.”

“No. I’m not letting you walk out of here. And certainly not without telling me where that Hydra base is located.”

Bucky’s eyes go cold and his reaction to the word _no_ is not hard to miss. Steve is once more looking into the face of a stranger. Bucky tries to step around Steve but his arm goes up automatically, and that is all Bucky needs. 

In a blink he swats Steve’s arm away and grabs Steve by the neck with his metal arm, his eyes black with rage. Instinctively, Steve grabs at the fist around his neck even though he knows it’s useless to try to remove it. He tries to kick Bucky but the other man anticipates that as well and he uses all his strength to crash Steve down on the bed. He leans over him, arm never relaxing. He’s not exactly choking Steve but he could crush his windpipe in less than a blink.

Steve knows fighting is futile and frankly, he doesn’t want to fight Bucky ever again. He slowly lowers his hands to his sides, even as his vision quickly gets hazy. Bucky is leaning over him, mouth in a snarl, but as soon as the fight goes out of Steve, something shifts.

The grip doesn’t loosen any but his face goes slack and a crease forms between his brows. Steve tries to relax his breathing but it’s difficult to do when your airways are constricted and you have 200lbs of muscle and metal leaning over you. 

Bucky eyes Steve curiously but the sneer doesn’t leave his face. “Aren’t you frightened of me?” The grip imperceptibly loosens.

“I don’t know how to be frightened of you, Buck. I already told you I’m with you to the end of the line so either kill me or get off me.” That does it because Bucky blinks hard and immediately releases his grip on Steve’s throat. He steps back in horror as Steve rubs at his bruised throat. Dropping his backpack where he stands, Bucky rubs his face in disbelief and dread.

Steve gets off the bed and without hesitation approaches Bucky. He's a few inches apart when a moment of clarity hits and he grabs Bucky’s shoulders and pulls him close. Their foreheads touch and Steve shuts his eyes in relief. He’s gripping Bucky’s arms like he never wants to let go.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky whispers in a haggard voice. And then he repeats it like a mantra. Steve pulls back to look Bucky in the eyes. “Bucky, stop. It’s ok. It’s my fault for goading you.” Bucky just shakes his head. “No it’s mine. I literally snapped. I could have killed you.”

Steve presses his forehead against Bucky’s again. He wants Bucky to stop talking. He doesn’t want to hear more apologies. He just wants to stand here and hold him. But there are bigger issues at play. He slowly leans back.

“Tell me what’s really going on, Bucky? I know it has something to do with Tony. Every time I mention his name you retreat. And now this. Please tell me.”

The panic is suddenly back in Bucky’s eyes and he’s shaking his head back and forth. “I can’t, Steve.” The words feel ripped from him, like just talking about it is agonizing.

“Come on, Bucky. Yes, you can. You can tell me anything. I’ve already told you, I’m not going anywhere. Did you ever meet Tony? Is that it? Do you know Tony?”

Bucky shuts his eyes and shakes his head. “Then what? Tell me and we don’t have to mention Tony ever again. I won’t bring him up. Please, Bucky.”

Bucky’s jaw is clenched so tight it looks painful. Steve pulls Bucky back but keeps a hold of his arms, almost as if he’s keeping the man upright. Bucky’s eyes are pleading as he finally meets Steve’s gaze. “You don’t understand, Steve. I can’t tell you. I can’t meet with Tony. I just. Can’t.”

Steve wants to push this, wants an answer, but the look in Bucky’s eyes gives him pause. Regretfully he lets Bucky go, let’s the topic go. He can’t push Bucky like this. His damn heart won’t let him. 

“Ok, Buck. You don’t have to tell me. Unless you’re ready. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have forced you.” Bucky swallows hard, the sound audible in the hollow silence of the room. The air is thick with humidity and it suddenly feels like there’s not enough space for the both of them. Steve takes another step back. 

“Tell me what you need,” he asks Bucky softly. The other man takes a deep breath, his eyes darting from Steve to the floor. “I’m fine,” he finally manages. “I just need some air I think.” Steve nods in understanding and steps out of Bucky’s way. He doesn’t turn around as he hears the soft click of the front door closing. 

***

It’s late by the time Bucky returns. Steve’s on the couch with the TV on low, and a slight breeze is coming through the open windows. The apartment is dark save for a small table lamp in the living room and he can barely make out Bucky’s form as the other man enters, sluggishly.

Bucky hesitates before sitting down in the chair opposite Steve. He’s hunched over, like a massive weight is hanging over him. Steve watches him with concern, but doesn’t say a word. It’s clear Bucky’s working himself up to something. He looks ragged and worn out as he rubs his hand across his face. Then Bucky sighs in resignation and Steve holds his breath.

“December 16th, 1991. Does that date mean anything to you?”

It takes a moment, but Steve’s heart suddenly stops in his chest. He finds Bucky’s eyes but meets a stubborn hostility. Steve clears his throat. “It’s the day Tony’s parents died.” His voice doesn’t even sound like his own. He remembers back to the Army base in Jersey with Natasha. Remembers the eerie voice of Zola on all those monitors. Remembers the grainy videos, the words Project Insight, and _accident_. He hears the pulse beating an erratic rhythm in his ears. Bucky hasn’t moved an inch. 

“They didn’t die, did they, Buck?”

Nausea brims inside Steve as Bucky looks away, confirming the churning thoughts inside his head. He feels dizzy and cold, despite the summer heat. “Hydra sent you.” Again, it wasn’t a question Bucky needed to answer. He grits his teeth as he tries to get the words out. “Why?”

Bucky’s eyes are shining as they fix on him. “They had something Hydra wanted. And I had to retrieve it. No mistakes. No witnesses.” He looks away again and seems suddenly so small in the chair, like he’s trying to retreat from his own memories.

“What did they have that Hydra wanted?” Steve makes himself ask. Bucky takes a deep breath, exhaustion all over his face.

“Howard Stark created more of the same serum that was used on me and you. I don’t think it was ever tested because like I said, it did something to the other subjects. I don’t know if it was a prototype or the final product but it’s not like I could ask questions.”

Steve nods but he’s not looking at Bucky. His thoughts are elsewhere, jumbled. Bucky is still talking. “Howard looked right at me, almost like he recognized me. Again, at the time… nothing mattered but completing the mission.”

Steve leans forward and rubs his eyes with both hands. He is bone-achingly tired, mentally, physically. The weight of the words that Bucky laid out for him destroyed his frame of mind and he literally can’t concentrate on anything. He stands up.

“I’m going to bed. You should try and get some rest as well, Buck.” He leaves without another word, and the apartment feels eerily silent as he makes his way to bed. He doesn’t even turn down the blankets. He just shuts his eyes and tries to escape from his nightmare reality. 

Steve tosses and turns to no avail. Sleep is pointless, but he’s beyond exhausted. Not a sound is heard inside the apartment and if Steve doesn’t know any better, he’d think he’s completely alone. It’s past two in the morning and his mind hasn’t shut down.

Denial is an ugly, cruel thing. Even as Bucky was laying it all out, his mind was already trying to convince him otherwise. It just couldn’t be true. It was too close to home. But of course it all made perfect sense, and once again a surge of guilt built up inside him because while he was frozen and oblivious in the Atlantic, Bucky was doing Hydra’s dirty work. Oblivious in his own way, as well. But with each new memory, something breaks inside Bucky. Steve can see it on his face.

Steve thinks about Tony and how he has no idea how his parents really died. The irony of the situation is beyond insane. That Tony wanted to meet the man who murdered his parents is truly something Steve never expected to come to pass. The thought is insanity. He scoffs in the darkness of his room, his head pounding.

He sighs and turns over and out of the corner of his eye he sees the dark shape against the doorway. His heart skips a beat, but his vision quickly adjusts and his heart lurches painfully. He sighs.

“Well, quit lurking and get in here.”

Bucky pads quietly to the bed and slowly sits down on the edge. Steve scoots over even though he’s not really in the middle but he lazily slaps his hand down on the empty side. After a beat, Bucky takes the cue.

He lays down, stiff as a board, his eyes on the ceiling. Steve turns his head to watch him for a minute, but when the other man shows no sign of life he mimics Bucky’s position, and stares up at the ceiling.

“Just like old times,” he quips, but it sounds sad to his own ears. Bucky says nothing. “Although our mattress was much smaller and thinner back then. Could feel every spring. Pretty sure there were fleas at one point, too. Half the time my mom woke up not knowing where I was. Soon our moms realized if one of us was missing, we were at the other one’s house. Half the time I woke up on the floor because you moved around so much you knocked me off the mattress.” Fuck, it hurts. 

“I warned you, Steve. I’m not...good to have around. My mind is all screwed up. You shouldn’t trust yourself with me. You don’t know the things I’ve done.”

Steve turns his head, can see the dark lashes curling upwards, sees Buck’s set mouth, his jaw tight. His right hand rests on his stomach, clenched into a fist. Steve itches to reach out, to try, somehow to ease the pain of the man lying next to him.

“I know you feel like this is your burden, alone, to bear. But I’m asking you to share it with me. I’m not changing my mind. I know you don’t remember, but you would never abandon me, no matter what form of sin I had committed. It wasn’t in your nature, and it’s not in mine. We were meant to find each other again. You can’t convince me otherwise.” He turns away, towards the windows.

It’s silent for so long, Steve actually thinks Bucky’s fallen asleep. But then a soft voice breaks through the stillness. “Are you going to tell Tony?”

Steve’s eyes blink against the darkness, hypnotized by the billowing curtains blowing in the breeze of the open balcony. A short moment of peace.

“No.”

***


	8. Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks a bunch for all the comments and kudos! They really motivate me :)  
All mistakes are my own!

The mood is cool and brittle over the next couple of days. Steve doesn’t mention Tony again and Bucky studiously avoids major conversations with Steve. At night though, it’s a different story. By an unspoken arrangement, when Steve goes to bed, Bucky waits a few minutes and then joins him.

He looks at Steve for silent permission and then he wearily slips into bed, as far away from Steve as humanly possible. He never gets under the covers and Steve doesn’t think he actually sleeps, because every morning he’s out of bed before Steve wakes up, his face brooding and tired, dark circles perpetually under his eyes. 

Steve hates this. He hates the tension, he hates the distance, and he hates the look on Bucky’s face. It’s like all the progress from the last few weeks has been wiped away. Furthermore, a more inconvenient problem has arisen, one that Steve never imagined would occur.

He’s found himself idly staring at Bucky’s bionic arm, each time recalling the feel of the hard metal closing around his throat, Bucky’s weight over his prone body. He’s not even sure why he’s thinking of it. But it’s constant. He should feel unnerved, but instead, he feels the complete opposite. Curious. Distracted. He’s pretty sure Bucky’s caught him staring. But Bucky never brings anything up.

He despises the churning, dark thoughts in his mind that have come through since the night of Bucky’s tragic confession. He meant what he told Bucky. He’s not gonna go to Tony with that information, even though looking him in the eye will come with some difficulties. Still, it’s not his story to tell. He tells himself it’s best this way. It’s the only way he’s able to get up in the morning and get on with his day.

***

He’s not in the mood to cook, and Bucky is clearly not in the mood for anything, but Steve still tries to get him out of his funk. Hands stuffed inside his jeans he finds Bucky chain smoking on the balcony, eyes dark and faraway.

“Hey, Buck. Was thinking about grabbing some take out.” He licks his lips. “You wanna come?”

Bucky actually glances up at him with a hint of interest. “You mean you want me to leave the confines of your home? Aren’t you afraid I’ll get kidnapped?”

Steve glares at the sarcastic tone. “Come on, Bucky. I’m trying here. And you’re not a prisoner. And yes, I live with the fear of you being taken every damn day. Especially when you disappear, and I have no fucking clue where you are.” He sighs deeply. “But if I barely recognize you, then most likely no one else will. So get your fucking hoodie on and join me, or continue to sulk out here all night.”

He storms away to the kitchen, grabs his keys. He shuts his eyes, mentally grimaces and is about to turn back, to apologize, but Bucky is standing a foot away from him, hoodie zipped up, baseball cap on. He parts his mouth but says nothing. Bucky just sighs and strolls past Steve, opening the door and walking out. Steve mimics the sigh and follows.

***

They sit in the car surrounded by traffic. Steve’s not even sure where he’s going but it feels good to just drive. He suddenly wishes he was on his motorbike, the wind blowing in his face, the open road ahead of him. Bucky holding onto him from behind.

He blinks away the sudden, unexpected thought, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. He clears his throat. “Anywhere in particular you wanna eat?”

“Not exactly up to date with the latest restaurant trends.”

Steve purses his lips, jaw clenched tight. “You know, it’s times like this I really, really wish I could get drunk.”

“Me too,” Bucky says faintly. 

Steve sighs, a knot of guilt forming in his stomach. He closes his eyes, words of apology on the tip of his tongue. And then he feels the cool touch of metal against his arm. He turns in surprise, but Bucky is pointing out the window.

“How about Indian? I’ve never tried it, have you?” Bucky turns back to Steve and his face is open for once and Steve forgets what he was going to say. He glances to the Indian restaurant Bucky points out and finds himself smiling for the first time in days. 

“Yeah, I have actually. In India, with the Avengers. It was...interesting. But I’ll give it another go.”

“We don’t have to eat there, Steve.”

“No, it’s fine, I want to. Let’s see if I can find a spot.” It actually takes him ten minutes to find a parking spot and it’s tight and he’s worried someone will scuff up Tony’s car when trying to leave, but he doesn’t care at the moment because he and Bucky are about to dine out together.

They walk the few blocks in silence and when they get to the small restaurant, are glad to find it semi-empty. They sit at a table in the corner, with a view of the busy street and the fading sun. Bucky stares intently at the menu and Steve finds it endearing and slightly comical.

“Can I recommend something?” he asks Bucky. The other man shuts the menu and shrugs.

“Maybe we can get a few different dishes to try?” The waiter comes by but Steve can’t contain his grin. He turns to the waiter and picks a few different things from the menu. They each order a beer and nurse it until the food arrives.

“You know I’ve never been to India?” Bucky says out of the blue. Steve just shrugs. “The world is a huge place, Buck, there are plenty of places I’ve never been to. You’ve probably seen more of the world than I have.”

Now it’s Bucky’s turn to shrug. “It’s not like I was on vacation during my visits. I can barely recall what anything looked like.” Steve gives him a sad look. “Nothing at all?” Bucky thinks for a long moment.

“I do remember the pyramids in Egypt. Massive. Impressive. I saw them over forty years ago so the crowds were not what they are now. Nor the filth and pollution. Back then there was no emotion attached to my thoughts, so I’m sure I took a glance and that was all. But now I clearly recall the way the scene looked. I’m not sure how anybody can look at what I saw and not feel anything.”

Steve frowns at the downcast look in Bucky’s face. Wants to erase it forever. Luckily their food arrives and Bucky perks up a bit. They end up finishing everything, which is impressive given they ordered at least five entrees as well as some samosas. 

Bucky wipes his mouth, a satisfied look glowing on his face. “That was nice,” he says simply, and Steve loves the way Bucky’s eyes glow in appreciation. 

“Yeah, I’m really glad we came here.” They chat a bit longer and then Steve gets the bill, not even balking for once at the exorbitant dollar amount. He has enough money to keep Bucky satisfied for life, if necessary. And if Bucky wants Indian food, Bucky gets Indian food.

They head out, the lights of Brooklyn out in full force. It’s a nice night, not too muggy, a slight breeze. They walk side by side and then Bucky stops in front of a storefront. Steve turns to look and raises a brow.

Bucky smirks in question and Steve shakes his head but follows Bucky inside the liquor store. They leave with two bottles of Tequila and Tito’s and some Gin for good measure. 

***

They sit out on the balcony, the bottles of liquor spread on the ground around them. They start out with glasses but somehow end up drinking straight from the bottle. Bucky doesn’t care for the gin but demolishes the tequila. It’s nearly midnight and they’re still not drunk.

“Maybe it really is true,” muses Bucky, downing a few more gulps. “I don’t think I feel anything.”

Steve sighs, taking a few sips of the gin. “To be honest, I’ve never really given it a good try. The last time I truly attempted it was-” He cuts himself off, eyes flickering away. Bucky senses the shift.

“When?” he demands softly, curiously. Steve sighs, takes a large sip. 

“Right after the train. When I thought you…” He inhales, feels the sour taste in his mouth. He thinks it's the alcohol, but he can’t be sure. “I didn’t even tell anyone where I was going. I walked and walked until I found a pub, but it was nearly completely destroyed. I stumbled over debris and boulders and eventually found the bar. Couldn’t believe there was any liquor still intact. But there was. A lot of it. I sat at a dusty table and drank for hours. Peggy eventually found me.”

Steve looks down at the clear liquid in the bottle. Takes a long swig. It burns going down but it’s still not doing what he wants it to do. “Now I drink for appearances. Some of it is even enjoyable. I didn’t even drink much after I woke up here, in the twenty first century. There isn’t enough alcohol in the world to forget about that,” he scoffs bitterly. 

Bucky watches him curiously. “Do you wish you died that day? In the ice?”

No one’s ever asked him that question, but Steve thinks on it quite frequently. “Sometimes, I do,” he replies honestly. “Especially at first. It was like a crazy dream but you can’t wake up from it. And then they tell you everyone you’ve ever known is dead and you wanna scream and rave and smash everything, but nothing helps. When I found out Peggy was still living I nearly lost it.

“I was a mess when I first saw her and even at her age she looked so beautiful to me. The same spark in her eyes. But then I found out about her marriage, and her children and grandchildren and it just didn’t seem real to me. In my mind I had only just talked to her. We made a date. To go dancing. And that was the last real thing I knew.”

He stops talking and looks straight at Bucky, and maybe the alcohol is affecting him because he can’t look away. He feels drowsy and sad and Bucky reads all that on his face because he gets up and reaches down with his arm. Steve grabs hold and Bucky hauls him up. 

“Come on,” he simply says, and guides Steve to the bed. He suddenly realizes he’s still holding the bottle of gin, and he lazily takes another swig, and then another. Bucky ends up taking the bottle away, though, setting it on the nightstand. Steve leans forward on the edge of the bed, his whole body exhausted.

“I’m glad I didn’t die, though,” he says in a faint voice. Bucky’s in front of him, still and waiting. “I would never have found you otherwise. I would never know what happened to you.”

“I’m glad you didn’t either,” Bucky says softly and Steve reaches out, finds Bucky’s arm in the darkness. Bucky takes the hint and Steve lays down, scooches over and feels the bed dip on the other end. Steve closes his eyes and falls asleep to the sound of Bucky breathing beside him.

***

The nightmare takes hold of him without mercy, like nightmares often do, and once it starts it’s unrelenting and he’s lost in his own mind. He hears the deep rumble of the train, the explosion of gunfire all around him. Lights flashing, sounds blaring, the wind howling. Then there’s Bucky, and he’s holding Steve’s shield, and it looks right, him holding it. And then the door explodes and the air pressure pulls Bucky towards the wide opening. Steve’s feet feel like they’re stuck in quicksand. No matter how fast he thinks he runs, his feet just won’t cooperate. 

Steve can’t see Bucky anymore, and his vision goes white. His feet finally find their footing and he makes his way to the opening. Wind rushes at him immediately and snow blasts at his face painfully. But he finally makes out Bucky, holding on for dear life. And unlike his other nightmares, he actually manages to grab hold of Bucky’s hand, and his eyes meet Bucky’s petrified ones and he wants to tell him it’s going to be ok, he’s got him. But as soon as he thinks it, his grip on Bucky’s hand loosens and then Bucky is...falling. 

Steve’s eyes stare in horror as his friend drops and drops, until he disappears into white mist. And then he bolts awake.

He’s soaked in sweat, his heartbeat loud in his ears. And a warm hand is resting on his shoulder. He looks down at the warm pressure and then his eyes find Bucky’s. For a second he can’t look away because he’s confused by his presence. He blinks the sweat from his eyes and looks down. 

“You ok?” he hears Bucky ask, the smallest hint of concern in his voice. The hand is still on his shoulder and Steve is afraid to move because he feels anchored by the small gesture, safe even. He nods, tries to blink away the last remnants of his nightmare. Tries to calm his mind.

Bucky is safe. He’s here, he’s real. He repeats it silently until his heart slows down. As soon as Bucky removes his hand Steve mumbles an excuse and locks himself in the bathroom. He splashes cold water all over his face and neck, the cool drops licking down his torso. It helps a bit and he cups some more water to rinse out his mouth. 

When he feels reasonably calm, he leaves the bathroom and finds Bucky waiting close by the door. The soft glow of a nearby light illuminates Bucky’s concerned features and Steve feels like crap for making Bucky worry. 

“I’m ok,” he reassures him, moving past him back into the bedroom. He sits at the edge of the bed, hunches over. After a beat, Bucky joins him, his metal arm resting against Steve’s. 

“I’m not...good at this,” Bucky says softly after a while, and Steve’s heart lurches. He glances over at Bucky and bumps shoulders with his. “You’re good, Buck. Just you being here is...helpful. Really.”

Bucky screws his face like he doesn’t quite believe it but says nothing. Steve sighs in the darkness. 

“Was it the same nightmare?” Bucky asks. Steve looks down. “It always ends the same.”

The silence is heavy, thick, like the warm air around them. Steve glances at Bucky’s leg, so near his. An inch or two and they’d be touching. Steve’s not sure why he’s thinking it, why the thought would even cross his mind. It’s been happening more and more lately. He must be going insane. He needs a nice, long run to clear his head. It’s been a while.

“Can I get you something? Water?” Bucky asks him and Steve shakes his head.

“I’m good, Buck. I think I need some air. I know it’s late, but I think I’m gonna go for a run.” He regretfully moves away from the other man and grabs a tank top from the dresser. Bucky says nothing as Steve quickly gets dressed and goes out.

***

He runs for miles. He has no destination, but it feels really good to stretch his legs again and just work out like this. He suddenly misses Sam. Misses the early morning runs around DC. It was a much simpler time and he really enjoyed having a jogging partner. Not that Sam ever kept up with his pace. Still. 

He runs across the Brooklyn Bridge and then back again. His adrenaline is through the roof and he’s actually getting tired by the time the sun rises. He stops by a coffee shop to grab some food and coffee and contemplates grabbing something for Bucky. He ends up with a bagel with lox and cream cheese on the side. He grabs the take out bag and jogs the mile back to his place.

Bucky is clearly waiting for him as he gets in, the look of relief on his face making Steve’s inside warm. He hands the bag to Bucky who gives him the slightest of smiles. Steve needs a shower, badly, and tells Bucky he’ll be a few minutes.

When he’s out of the shower, he feels much better and the last remnants of his nightmare have dissipated with the morning light. He pats Bucky on the back as he enters the kitchen, glad to see the other man eating the bagel. Steve notices the circles under Bucky’s eyes getting darker day by day. 

“Bucky, you need to sleep some time. You know that. Even your body can’t withstand such a long time between slumber.”

“I can function just fine, Steve,” Bucky says in a tone that means he’s finished with this conversation. Steve should drop it. But when has he ever actually listened to his own advice?

“Buck, come on. I’ll...watch over you or something while you sleep. I won’t let anything happen.”

Bucky’s eyes grow cooler. “Aside from how creepy that sounds, there’s nothing you can do for me if anything happens. When I go under, my mind… it’s not my own. I have no idea what I’ll wake up to. None.”

“No one can control what happens when they sleep, Bucky. We all have nightmares.”

“Yeah, except mine don’t go away once I wake up,” Bucky responds with a sneer. “They stay with me.”

Steve hates himself for even thinking it, but Tony Stark’s pompous face pops up in his mind, knowing he could be the key to potentially helping Bucky. He doesn’t dare voice his opinion though, not after last time. 

“I… hate that you have to go through this,” Steve says in a strained tone. “I know you’re not too fond of asking for help and you’re right, there’s really nothing I can do to help you in the way you need. I fucking hate it. But I’m...here. Regardless. If you need… anything.”

Bucky’s watching him curiously, like he’s not quite sure how to respond. Steve just gives him a reassuring smile as he pats his shoulder and leaves him to his thoughts. He goes to his bedroom to sort some laundry and realizes his space feels too crowded. Even though it's just them, there isn’t all that much room to do much of anything. And that’s when he gets the idea.

He’s thinking of Tony again, but this time for an entirely different reason. He grabs his phone and goes out to the balcony and dials Tony’s number. It only takes one ring.

“Hey, Cap. Long time no talk. I’m assuming you’re not gonna give me an answer to my proposition?”

“No. Tony, listen. Do you still have that cabin upstate?”

“Yes…”

“Can I borrow it for a few days? No, I’m not going to tell you why.”

“Hmm, seems awfully rude of you to ask for use of my luxury mountain retreat without even giving me a clue of your intentions.”

“Tony.”

“Ok, fine, you twisted my arm. I’ll text you the address and the keycode to get in. You too lovebirds have fun!” Tony hangs up before Steve can sputter out a response. He silently curses the man, but he’s too excited to be agitated for long.

He hurries to tell Bucky.

“Bucky, pack some clothes and anything else you need. We’re going away for a few days. We both need some more space, I think.”

Bucky looks at him with wide, cautious eyes. “Where are we going?”

Steve licks his lips, debates whether to tell him or not. “Upstate. There’s a cabin. It’s empty and secluded. No one around for miles.”

Bucky perks up at that and goes to grab his backpack, along with some clothing he stuffs inside it. Steve grabs a duffel from the closet and randomly chooses some clothing and a set of hiking boots. He goes to the bathroom and grabs the toiletries for them both and then they hit the road.

***

It’s mid-week so getting out of the city isn’t as horrible as it would be during the weekend. Still, it takes a few hours before the GPS brings them closer to Kaatskill Bay. The sun is high in the sky and the air conditioner is blowing. The city is long behind them and so far it’s been nothing but trees and lake views. 

Steve is already starting to feel more relaxed. As much as he loves Brooklyn, he’s glad to be reminded of New York’s other beauties. He’s driving down winding roads and glancing out the window when he sees a fox and a few cubs crossing the road up ahead. He slows the car and goes to grab Bucky’s attention, and that’s when he notices that Bucky’s passed out.

His head tilts against his side of the window, the seatbelt awkwardly cutting into his throat. Steve’s heart goes still for a beat, but he does nothing about it. He makes sure the animals are off the road and then he hits the gas again. He has no idea how long Bucky’s been out, as they both sat quietly, just enjoying the ride.

In a way, Steve’s glad Bucky is finally resting. He needed it, without question. The GPS is saying they are about forty-five minutes away from Tony’s house. Steve takes a deep breath and hopes Bucky stays asleep for the rest of the journey. 

The homes become larger and further apart, until there’s really nothing but pines for miles, views of Lake George, and the road becomes noticeably narrower. They’re about fifteen minutes away when a hand suddenly slams against the steering wheel, and the car swerves off the road.

Heart thumping wildly, Steve looks over and sees Bucky’s metal arm gripping the wheel as the other reaches into his pocket for something that’s not there- a gun.

“Bucky, stop!” Steve’s trying to control the car but Bucky’s grip on the wheel is immovable. He swats his arm but it’s literally like hitting steel. He goes for the leg, landing a firm punch. That’s when Bucky lets go of the wheel to grab at Steve. He sees metal glint out of his eye and snatches his head back. Bucky’s eyes are dark and fired up.

Steve knows it’s a gamble, but he slams on the breaks. The car shudders violently but it doesn’t phase Bucky. Unfortunately, they’ve both got their belts on and Steve can’t just spring out of the car as Bucky is practically on top of him. 

“Bucky, stop it, it’s me, _Steve_!” It doesn’t exactly come out coherent, as Bucky’s arm tries to get hold of his throat. Steve lands an awkward punch to Bucky’s chest. With one hand holding up Bucky, Steve maneuvers his other to the belt clasp. Miraculously getting it undone, he uses the same hand to grab for the door handle. He spills out of the car a second later, Bucky following. He’s held back last second by his own belt.

Steve scrambles to his feet as Bucky growls in frustration in the car. Using his metal hand he tears the belt from its clasp and Steve mentally winces at that. Tony is not going to be happy. Bucky opens his door and gets out, eyes murderously on Steve. 

They’re on opposite sides of the car now, and Steve knows Bucky won’t wait long to make his move. He places his palms up, hoping Bucky can see him, recognize him.

“Bucky Barnes. Stop this. It’s Steve Rogers. You know me. Look at me, damn it. You’re here with me, not with them. You’re safe. There is no mission. Wake _up_!”

Bucky blinks, his hands on the hood of the car. He shakes his head in confusion even as his eyes try to focus on Steve. His breathing is labored and he suddenly places both his hands to his temple, like he’s trying to void his mind of whatever is inside him. Steve can’t stand to watch.

Without thinking, he goes around the front of the car and cautiously approaches Bucky, who still has his hands to his head. Steve grimaces and takes the last remaining steps. He grabs both of Bucky’s arms, stilling the movements.

Bucky’s flesh arm might as well be made of metal as well as its solid and corded underneath Steve’s fingers, but he holds on tight, putting just enough pressure so Bucky can feel something real. It takes an agonizing minute, but eventually Bucky removes his hands, his eyes bright and pained. Steve doesn’t let go as he slowly lowers Bucky’s arms. He keeps eye contact, can make out the long eyelashes, the multitude of blue hues swirling in Bucky’s eyes. The recognition, finally.

Bucky takes a deep, shaking breath, and instead of backing away like Steve expects him to, he suddenly leans forward, almost as if he can’t control his own body. Steve is startled by the thud of Bucky’s chest against his own, Bucky’s head against his shoulder. Weeks of them sharing the same space and finally, finally, Steve grabs Bucky, fingertips squeezing tight against his back.

“I got you,” he whispers in Bucky’s ear. Bucky’s arms don’t move towards Steve, but Steve holds on and doesn’t let go. He shuts his eyes and hates that it’s come to this. Hates that the only way Bucky feels safe is to first feel fear, and rage. Hates that he has to hold on to his friend out of shock. But if that’s what Bucky needs…

The car sits idle to the side, the only sound around them aside from the shattered breathing coming from Bucky. The sky is turning a pinkish hue and everything is calm, while chaos reigned mere minutes ago. Steve holds on.

“I’m good now,” Bucky quietly whispers, the sound so close to Steve’s ear. He pulls back cautiously, watching Bucky for any signs of distress. But Bucky’s mastered his features into a deceptive calm and somehow Steve knows it’s a mask, for his sake, and he wants to scream at Bucky, to tell him it’s ok to let go, to rage, to be pissed off. Because nothing about this situation is ok.

Instead he takes a step back, fingertips gliding away from Bucky’s frame. The other man looks down and sighs.

“How long was that...episode?”

Steve recalls the near death experience in Tony’s car disdainfully. “A few minutes. You were asleep and then… I don’t even know when you woke up, but luckily we’re out in the middle of nowhere and not near a cliff or ravine.”

Bucky glances at the position of the car darkly. “We should keep going,” he says. “Don’t want another car passing by.” He heads back towards the car and sighing, Steve follows.

They get in, and Bucky picks up his broken seatbelt. Steve throws him a sheepish look and Bucky stares out the window as Steve gets the car started, silently thanking Tesla for their auto-braking system. They drive in bleak silence for a couple of minutes.

“Sorry,” Bucky simply states, eyes out the window. Steve purses his lips. There aren’t enough words for either of them to make sense of any of this, so he merely throws Bucky a half-hearted smile his way, as the dark silhouette of Tony’s cabin finally comes into view. 

It’s surprisingly not gated, but he can already make out the multitude of cameras around the entryway. The stone-paved driveway is massive and long as it winds its way up to the cabin. Hydrangeas explode from every angle of the garden out front and massive oaks and pines surround the property, keeping out any prying eyes.

Steve parks the car out front near the door and he watches Bucky stare at the cabin in wonder. It’s a massive building, and Steve has to roll his eyes. This is no weekend getaway retreat. This is a compound disguised as a lakeside cabin. He’s still shaking his head in disbelief as he pops the trunk and takes out their meager luggage.

Bucky gets out slowly, eyeing the property carefully. Steve knows without asking what he’s doing: checking the perimeter, looking for the best exit points. It’s what Steve does, too. He grabs his bag and Bucky’s backpack and closes the trunk.

Grabbing his phone he finds the keycode Tony texted him- eleven digits long- and, sighing, they both walk up to the front door, and whatever awaits them inside.


	9. Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky enjoy the comforts of Tony's lake house.

“It’s obscene,” Bucky muses aloud. Steve silently agrees. The front entryway is wider than Steve’s entire apartment, massive wood-carved beams jut out of the granite floor on four sides, supporting the vaulted ceiling. From where they stand Steve can see the lake because of all the large windows. 

Steve suddenly realizes he never told Bucky whose house this is. Turns out, he doesn’t have to. Bucky’s sharp eyes find a framed photo on a nearby console table and he stalks over, picking it up. His eyes go dark and he turns the photo in Steve’s direction. It’s an older photo of Tony and his mother, all dressed up at some banquet. Steve mentally winces.

“I meant to tell you.”

He’s so sure Bucky’s either going to stalk out or punch him- both would be warranted- but his friend takes a deep sigh and slowly places the photo back. Maybe he’s still reeling and ashamed about what happened in the car, because he’s clearly fighting with something inside as he turns to Steve with a very controlled expression.

“Yeah. You should have.”

Steve throws Bucky a contrite look. “Sorry. It wasn’t intentional. I just badly wanted to get away and I knew it was secluded and you’d probably enjoy the solitude and-”

“Steve, I get it, ok. Stop ranting. Just, maybe some heads up next time?”

“Course.”

They take a brief walk around the first floor, eyes wide from what they find. A massive, industrial-grade kitchen, a sitting room with a river rock fireplace stretching from the floor to the vaulted ceiling, another living area with more square footage than Steve’s apartment. It’s insane. 

They go upstairs next, the staircase wide enough for an army. It’s all bedrooms and bathrooms, and what looks like Tony’s study. Steve picks a random bedroom facing the lake and drops his bag on the bed. He turns to Bucky. 

“I bet they’re all identical in size. Did you pick one yet?” Bucky’s eyes are on the lake as he makes a noncommittal sound. Steve inspects the attached bath. Marble as far as the eye can see. There’s a massive stone tub against a floor to ceiling window, overlooking the lake. Steve can’t deny the glorious view.

Bucky’s disappeared by the time Steve returns, so Steve takes the opportunity to change his shirt. After the scuffle in the car he needs it. The bedspread is a luxurious linen and he feels odd for even sitting on it. This was all the opposite of who he is. All this pomp and wealth for show. He shakes his head at the waste, thinks of the suffering and poverty all over the world. Still, Tony’s offer is not unappreciated, and he’s going to make the most of it.

He finds Bucky in the bedroom next to his, same expensive furnishings, same beautiful view. His back is to Steve as he stares out the window.

“So this is how rich people live,” muses Bucky, and Steve has to smile.

“Technically, I’m rich too, though this is a few levels above anything I make. And Tony’s always been a bit of a show-off. I bet he only comes here every couple of years.”

Bucky turns around. “I feel… out of place here.” Steve’s not sure if that was a joke, but he sniggers anyway. “You and me both, pal. I grew up poorer than dirt. It was all I knew. Even during the war, money and valuables meant nothing to me. I didn’t need them or require them. I had my unit, and that was all I knew. Even after I was thawed out, this new, strange world was foreign to me. The money they told me I suddenly had left a sour taste in my mouth. Like I didn’t earn it or deserve it. Especially when others had less than me. 

“I barely touch my bank account, even now. I have my apartment, and some clothes. Sometimes I splurge on good food. There’s nothing else I really need, or want. All this...excess. It makes me uncomfortable.”

“But not uncomfortable enough to leave, right?”

Steve grins. “Hell no.”

***

There’s no fresh food in the kitchen, but they find a large pantry filled with expensive canned-good and lots of beef jerky. They take a little bit of everything out and sit at the massive marble island, watching the sun set over the lake. 

Bucky has a nostalgic, faraway look on his face and eventually, Steve bumps elbows with his, gives him a questioning look. Bucky sighs, eyes never leaving the lake.

“In the car, I had a dream I was drowning. It’s not the first time. They used to torture me with water constantly. They would dunk me backwards, strapped down, into a large steel structure filled with water. I screamed every time. Until one day I didn’t. I learned that if you kept it all in, they tortured you less. But they didn’t stop. At least not until they were completely satisfied. 

“Absolute compliance. That’s how they function and that’s what was intended of me. There were many types of punishments. But they knew I hated water the most. I can hold my breath for a really long time.”

Steve stares at Bucky in horror, the color draining from his face. “Bucky. You dove into the Potomac to get me out.” Bucky just shrugs, looks back towards the lake. Steve feels ill.

“Buck... “ He doesn’t know what to say. The mere fact that Bucky saved a man he hardly knew by doing the one thing he fears, is mind-blowing and confusing.

“I do a lot of things on instinct. That day, something told me to let go, to get you out. It’s fine,” he shrugs it off again. “It was my choice that time, not theirs.”

Steve’s heart flutters painfully in his chest. “Well, I’m glad you made that jump,” he says softly, and Bucky quirks his lip, looks down, embarrassed. They eat quietly for a while, until it's dark outside.

“We should probably go into town tomorrow to get some supplies. Food and whatnot. I dunno about you but I can’t survive on jerky alone,” Steve grins and Bucky nods in answer. They end up in the living room, watching some tv after figuring out how to work the custom remote. 

At around midnight Steve stifles a yawn and tells Bucky he’s heading up to bed. He draws the heavy curtains in his room and pulls back the bedding. He strips down to his boxers and lays down, reveling in the luxurious feel of the sheets and the comfortable mattress. It conforms to his body and he makes a mental note to get one of these.

He’s just nodding off when he hears the soft knock on his door. He frowns into his pillow, mumbles out a _yeah_ and watches in drowsy curiosity as Bucky slowly walks inside. The sight is suddenly so comforting, and even though they both know each has their own bedroom, Steve wordlessly moves over and Bucky slips into the bed. Steve silently listens to Bucky’s soft breathing as he finally drifts off.

***

Steve is alone when he wakes up, which is not a surprise, but a hint of disappointment hits him regardless. He gets dressed and goes to find Bucky. The house is massive and he eventually finds him on the pier, off the back patio. Steve smiles as he watches Bucky, his legs dangling over the edge.

“Morning,” he announces, and Bucky squints up at him and what passes for a smile appears on his face. Steve sits down next to him.

“I wasn’t tired, so I watched the sun rise. It’s nice here. Quiet.”

Steve smiles. “Yeah, it is. Maybe we can do some fishing later,” he suggests. Bucky shrugs in nonchalance but Steve takes that as a win. They used to fish a lot when they were younger off the pier at Coney Island. They almost never caught anything but it was a blast all the same.

“So you wanna head into town, maybe get breakfast and then some supplies?”

“Sure, I’ll grab my hoodie.” As Steve watches Bucky go back inside, he feels a twinge of sadness at the fact that Bucky has to hide from the world. That he’s a wanted fugitive, when the real criminals are still out there, in plain sight. He’s disgusted by the whole system. And even people he can consider as friends wouldn’t really understand, he fears. Even Sam doesn’t get it. Hero complex, he’d say. But it’s not that. Not with Bucky. He stifles a sigh and heads back to the house.

He grabs the keys, sets the alarm, and they head off. The closest town is about fifteen minutes away but they’re in no hurry, content to watch the late summer scenery. The roads are quiet and not another car in sight, when the car Bluetooth goes off. 

A voice Steve recognizes easily booms through the speakers. “Hey, Cap. Got an alert the car was on the move again. Is this a bad time?”

Steve throws a look at Bucky. “Hey, Tony, no, what’s up?” Bucky is statue-still, his face white as a ghost. Steve’s fairly certain he’s not even breathing.

“Your war pal there with you?” Tony asks in a light tone, and Steve squeezes the steering wheel and resists the urge to end the connection. He puts on his most aggravated tone.

“What do you want, Tony?”

“Oh, nothing of import. Just that an alert came to me from that very car yesterday. Diagnostics say there might be some internal damage.”

Steve automatically glances towards the destroyed passenger seat belt. He sighs. “I’ll pay for the damage, Tony. It’s nothing major.” There’s a brief silence.

“Is everyone...ok?”

“Yes. Look, I just got to the store, can I ring you later?”

“Sure thing, Cap. Just lemme know if you need…. whatever.” Steve hits the end button quickly. He doesn’t look at Bucky.

“Sorry about that. Great timing, as usual.” Steve rolls his eyes.

“He can track this car. Any time he wants to.” Bucky’s voice is even, but Steve’s not fooled. He glances over, resists the urge to place his hand on Bucky. 

“I wouldn’t put you in harm’s way, Buck. I swear it. Tony’s known where we were this whole time. He’s not going to do anything. He’s a dick, and much too curious for his own good, but he’s not the enemy.”

Bucky says nothing, just turns his head towards the window for the rest of the ride. When they arrive at the first diner they see, it’s packed to the gills. Luckily there are picnic tables outside so they place a to-go order and wait in a crowded corner with everyone else. Steve can tell Bucky’s not comfortable, but luckily their food is ready ten minutes later.

They take their trays and find a spot at one of the picnic tables. They make quick work of their meals and head back to the car. Steve looks up the closest grocery store on his phone and luckily it’s a couple of minutes away. He glances over at Bucky and can tell his mood’s gone downhill since Tony’s impromptu phone call. He’ll have to amend that.

When they get to the market they each grab a basket and head their own way. Steve grabs some meat and burgers and fish and Bucky’s all about the snacks and junk food. Steve smirks when they get to the register and Bucky adds a couple packs of smokes to their load.

When they get back to Tony’s, Bucky announces he wants to do a bit of exploring but clearly wants to be alone, so Steve doesn’t bother asking to tag along. It’s disappointing, but he understands. He instead puts all the food away, and decides to go for a swim in the massive pool out back.

Oddly enough, Steve doesn’t own any swim trunks, so he takes a chance and snoops around Tony’s guest rooms and eventually finds a few spares. Some have tags with expensive figures on them. He rolls his eyes but wears them regardless. They’re a bit snug but they’ll do.

The pool is spotless and the perfect temperature, as the solar panels heat the space constantly. He does laps until he loses count and the sun is high above him, scorching his pale skin. He heaves himself out of the pool, breathing heavily, and grabs his towel. After sitting down on one of the lounge chairs for a few, he decides to see if Bucky’s returned.

He drapes the towel around his neck and heads inside the house. He goes to the guest room that Bucky claimed and although he doesn’t see Bucky, he does spot something that immediately gets his attention.

Bucky’s backpack is on the bed, and all the contents along with it. He gets closer, takes notice of the Glock, what look like the smaller explosive grenades Bucky used on the Helicarriers, and a few various sized knives. He doesn’t touch anything, but his unease at coming across the weapons doesn’t sit well. It’s strange for Bucky to leave it all out in the open like this, given he’s never done so at Steve’s apartment. He’s also sure Bucky’s been in this room since Steve’s been in the pool. He heads back downstairs.

He goes out the back, and stands still, listening for any sound out of the ordinary. It doesn’t take long. There’s a narrow path leading from the back patio into the woods and he can just make out an odd thumping sound. He hurries over, watching his step as he’s still barefoot.

It’s not a far walk and he soon comes to a small clearing that’s somewhat surprising. Along the various trees there are targets, some close, some farther. And there in the center of the clearing he finds Bucky. The odd thumping noises he heard were throwing knives being flung at the targets. Bucky’s got a few still in his hands and Steve notices the others lodged in the bullseye of the various targets. He stands still to watch.

He knows Bucky’s aware of his presence, but the man doesn’t react in any way. Expertly wielding the black knife just so, he barely flings his wrist and it makes a satisfying _wack _on the next target. He’s got two more left and they fly true as well. Steve is silently impressed.

When Bucky’s all out of knives he finally turns to Steve, his brows furrowing at Steve’s lack of proper clothing. He’s even got the towel still around his neck. He smirks. “Was in the pool.” Bucky merely nods and goes to retrieve his knives. Steve helps, going in the other direction. 

He grabs the first knife and takes a closer look. It’s about twelve inches long, matte black and steel, with a cord-wrapped handle, and fits perfectly in his hand. It’s lightweight but the blade looks incredibly serious.

“You want a go?”

Steve turns around and Bucky’s holding the knives for him. He smirks in challenge, even though he can’t remember the last time he tried this. There are six knives total and he lets Bucky hold onto them and pass them as needed. 

The first knife hits the tree a foot above the target. The second dings off the rim of the target and lands in the grass. Frowning, he concentrates on a closer target and manages to at least lodge it in, bull well off center. He can almost feel the waves of humor rolling off Bucky. The last three knives get impaled but none come close to the bullseye. 

He purses his lips as Bucky retrieves them all again, joining him in the center once more. It’s like watching a pre-programmed machine. There’s almost no thought process involved because Bucky just demolishes the targets, spinning in place, leaving the farthest target for last. Steve isn’t even watching where it lands, his eyes are glued to Bucky’s face the whole time. He doesn’t even break a sweat.

“I needed that. Been out of practice a while now,” Bucky muses aloud and Steve resists the urge to punch him. After Bucky’s retrieved all the knives again, Steve’s curiosity can’t be contained.

“Where did you learn that?”

“Siberia. It’s like a favorite pastime over there. It’s how they pass the time.”

“They?”

“Soldiers. There’s a lot of just waiting around. One of my times out of Cryo, I was sitting outside, guarded, of course, but by then I was respected enough that I had some freedom. I was allowed to converse with the soldiers around me. I almost never did. But one freezing winter evening I watched two soldiers have a knife throwing contest and I suddenly found it fascinating.

I remember walking over to them and watching them freeze out of terror, reaching for their guns in panic. I just asked them to show me how to throw and after a minute of silence and staring, they demonstrated for me. Then it was enjoyment for them. No one could throw as hard as I could. Like I said, something to pass the time.”

Bucky walks over to a wooden stump and grabs a leather pouch. He fits all the knives inside, and they start their way back towards the house. Bucky jerks his head towards Steve. “How was your swim?”

“Uh, nice. Felt good to just do laps. I guess you can say I’ve also been out of practice. Didn’t realize how much I needed that exercise.” Buck nods.

“I found some more trails around the house. Might be good for jogging. If you wanna join me tomorrow morning?”

Steve barely contains his glee. He loves the fact that Bucky’s opening up to him. “Sure, sounds like a challenge.”

Bucky quirks a brow. “I didn’t say it was gonna be a race.”

“You didn’t have to,” Steve grins this time, and enjoys the bashful look on Bucky’s face. They head inside the house for some lunch. Steve doesn’t bother to change out of his swim trunks. There’s still time in the day for another swim.

***

They spend the rest of their day exploring the grounds some more and end up back at the pool. Steve jumps in, eager to get cooled off, but Bucky just sits at the edge, lets his feet dangle over the edge. Steve’s about to tell Bucky to join him, when he remembers his trepidation regarding water. He’s not sure if swimming pools factor into his fear, but decides not to push it. He eventually hauls himself out, sitting next to Bucky. Water slides off him but he doesn’t bother drying off, even as some droplets land on Bucky’s hands resting on the edge of the pool. 

“It must be nice to live in such a place all the time. Constant privacy, always so calm. It quiets the mind.”

Steve looks at Bucky and it’s on the tip of his tongue, almost as if his brain hasn’t thought through everything properly. He wants to tell the man he’ll buy a place out here, out anywhere. Somewhere remote. Away from people. He’ll do it, for Bucky. And they can live there without fear of discovery. He almost says all this.

His face goes flush suddenly as all these thoughts race within him. It’s absolutely absurd. He’s barely been with Bucky a few short weeks. If he came out with a ridiculous scheme like that Bucky would think he’d gone mad. And yet, it’s strange how quickly he was open to that idea. He would do it in an instant if Bucky said yes. He has the funds. They don’t need anything grand or ostentatious as the place they are in now. But he knows he has plenty of money to settle them somewhere comfortable. It doesn’t even have to be in NY. 

“Bucky,” he starts cautiously. “Have you ever thought about where you would want to be, ideally? If you could live anywhere, be anywhere, where would it be?”

Bucky licks his bottom lip while contemplating his answer, his feet skimming back and forth across the water. Steve watches him intently.

“I haven’t really thought about any of that. To be honest, I’ve been living day to day. It’s hard to think about the future when you’re a wanted criminal.”

Steve’s heart aches. “I want to fix that.”

Bucky glances over at him, his face close to Steve’s. “You can’t. It’s not up to you. You can’t control what the public thinks and they’ll have plenty to say.”

“So what? Who cares what anyone thinks? The truth is all that matters. You died a war hero. When people find out the real truth they’ll be outraged and appalled. But not with you. When they find out what they did to you, when they see you. I mean, look at you, Bucky. They’ll see a handsome man whose whole life was ruined by their own government. If I know anything, it's that the public loves a good story. Can you imagine the impact this would have?”

Bucky looks down, his face dark. “You’re forgetting something, Steve. I don’t want any of the notoriety. I don’t want people to know me. I want to just...go away, and live my life like everyone else. I’m too damaged to be around people. But alone, I could drift away, and no one would miss me, and I can just live out my life on my terms.”

A sudden burning in his chest has Steve shutting his eyes against Bucky’s words. He swallows hard, not caring for the acrid taste in his mouth. He opens his eyes and stares at the rippling water in front of him.

“I hope one day that happens for you, Bucky,” he says in a flat tone that Bucky does not miss. Steve can feel his piercing gaze by his side, but he turns away and stands up, grabbing his towel.

“I’m gonna start on dinner.” Steve walks away, his feet heavy, his heart even more so.

***

There’s a massive grill outside but Steve has no clue how to use it, so he fries some fish on the industrial range in the kitchen. He’s got rice boiling and veggies for the sides. He does it all mindlessly, not even aware of how much time has passed, until Bucky comes into the kitchen.

He’s changed into dark jeans and a light blue tee that fits to every curve of his torso. Steve looks away to the plates he’s making. He gives Bucky the bigger piece of fish, just because he’s not overly hungry and places both plates at the island.

“Smells good,” Bucky intones as he scooches up on the stool. Steve plasters a smile on his face and joins him. Bucky immediately digs in, but Steve chases the food around his plate for a while.

“I know why you’re mad,” Bucky suddenly says between bites, and Steve stills, eyes on his plate.

“Who says I’m mad?”

Bucky’s dark blue eyes latch onto him until even Steve can’t resist the pull. Similar blues glance up and the staring contest lasts only a few seconds because he can’t look at Bucky without hurting all over again.

Bucky sighs, puts down his fork. “Steve, I didn’t mean to sound unappreciative before, if that’s what you thought. It’s just, you have no idea what goes on inside my head half the time. Even sitting here right now, just eating, there are noises and sounds in my head that don’t go away. They almost never stop. When I said it wasn’t a good idea to be around people, I meant it. I wish that didn’t include you. I know you’ve done everything you can for me. And it’s helped, it really has. But you saw what happened in the car. It can happen anytime, anywhere. And if I just went away, I wouldn’t have to worry about hurting anyone, or _fuck_\- killing anyone.”

Bucky rakes both hands through his short hair and Steve watches with a sorrowful gaze. His eyes catch Steve’s and linger, swirling with a deep-seated pain, and it’s Steve’s vision that goes blurry, his heart shattering angrily to pieces. He gets off his stool and walks around to Bucky. He’s long past thinking about consequences. He grabs Bucky by shoulders and hauls him up. He wraps his long arms around and is astonished to feel Bucky’s fingers latch onto his own back.

“I hate that I feel like this,” Bucky grounds out in a broken voice. Steve just holds tighter. He can feel the cool metal of Bucky’s fingers through his shirt, and he doesn’t want this moment to end.

“Let me help you, Buck. Whatever you need. Where you go, I go.”

“Steve, I can’t ask that of you. You have your own life. You’re Captain America.”

Steve pulls away so he can see Bucky’s face. “Fuck Captain America. The public created that. I never wanted it. I just wanted to fight a war. They don’t get a say. This is my life and I decide what I want.”

“And what, you want to latch yourself to someone like me?” Bucky asks incredulously, his eyes searching Steve’s face. Steve tilts his head like Bucky’s mad for even thinking something like that.

“Who else would I latch myself to? It’s just you and me. There’s no one left anymore. ‘Til the end of the line, remember?”

Bucky’s eyes flutter, his mind drifting back to that fateful day on the Helicarrier. The day Steve broke through to him. He did remember something then. It wasn’t even anything viable. It was just a feeling. Something familiar. He stares at Steve now the same way he did back then.

“Thank you,” he simply says, but to Steve it means the world. To Steve it’s more than progress, it’s a brand new beginning. Once again he’s broken through to Bucky and he’s not letting go again.

He slowly takes a step back so Bucky has some space to breathe. The other man is eyeing him warily.

“Now what?” Bucky asks Steve.

Steve raises a brow and smiles warmly. “Now, we finish our dinner.”


	10. Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, December is a crazy busy month! Thank you for all the kudos and comments!!

The days fly swiftly and soon the week has passed. Steve and Bucky spend their time mostly outdoors. In the mornings they jog a few miles around Tony’s extensive property. It almost always ends in a race. Then it’s breakfast and a cool dip in the pool. Steve finds out Bucky actually doesn’t mind swimming, he just prefers to stay above water. They do laps, which also ends up as a competition.

Some days they take turns throwing knives at the targets and in the evenings they play cards or watch random television. Steve sometimes dozes off. Bucky never does. The dark circles return, despite their time in the sun. Steve mostly stays silent. It’s not like he can force Bucky to take a nap.

Steve’s phone receives numerous texts from both Tony and Sam. He responds to Sam. He feels slightly guilty for neglecting his friend, but he really needs this time with Bucky. Aside from the lack of sleep, it’s really been good for Bucky, at least Steve thinks so. There’s more banter, more smiles, more...warmth. 

Every time Bucky’s eyes crinkle in mirth, Steve’s heart swells. Every smirk that appears after Steve tells a bad joke is worth more than his Captain America mantle. More than all the gold in the world. And every soft finger glide across his back in passing is more tortuous than his memory of war. 

He’s not the fastest learner, nor the smartest man, but he’s not an idiot. Hardly an expert in the matter, he’s perfectly aware of why his heart speeds up every time Bucky’s gaze lingers just a bit too long. He’s always the first to look away because he’s an utter coward. He’ll jump to the front lines and into battle before he lets his traitorous thoughts become anything more. He’s not even sure why he’s being dramatic. 

He’s always been the one to jump into the fray, the first one into battle. But in all other things, it was always Bucky who took the lead. All those nights out dancing and drinking. All those girls who came out with them, some out of attraction for Bucky, some out of pity for Steve. In the end they all followed Bucky. Steve too. He’d end up sitting alone at the bar, drinking or watching Bucky dance the night away with one pretty girl after another.

So he feels a bit lost, even now. He’s suddenly small again, insignificant. Bucky was always larger than life. People either wanted to be with him, or to be him. Steve just felt grateful Bucky even wanted to hang out with him. To be seen with him. Steve never understood it. There wasn’t an evening that Bucky didn’t drag Steve with him. And after the girls had gone home, it was just the two of them stumbling home, drunk, like idiots.

Neither of them could get drunk now, Steve muses as he watches Bucky swim laps in the pool. The sun is high in the sky and Steve grilled some burgers for lunch. Bucky scarfed his down and went swimming, to Steve’s dismay. Guess he doesn’t know about the thirty-minute rule.

Steve’s on the lounger, pondering his current life, his eyes constantly on Bucky’s swift form. It’s almost hypnotic. He covers the length of the pool in no time, hardly out of breath. He’s a great swimmer, his form true. Sunglasses on, Steve continues to watch. He eventually loses count of the amount of laps Bucky’s done.

He takes a sip of some cold lemonade spiked with vodka as Bucky exits the pool, his chest heaving with mild exertion. He grabs the towel on the lounger next to Steve and quickly swats it on his body. Then he plops down next to Steve, face straining towards the warmth of the sun.

Even now, Steve turns his head to watch. It’s becoming a problem. He sighs and takes a few more sips. Bucky grabs his own glass eventually, downing it in a few gulps. He crunches on some ice and Steve grins at how much it reminds him of a younger, more care-free Bucky.

“So how much longer are we staying here?” Bucky asks him after a while, his eyes shut against the sun. Steve sighs.

“Maybe a couple more days. I feel bad for taking over Tony’s place for so long.”

Bucky shrugs. “Why? It’s not like he was planning on coming here. This place is probably empty ninety percent of the year.”

“You’re probably right. Still, it’s always polite not to overstay one’s welcome.” He licks his lips before saying what’s on his mind.

“Besides, I have plenty of money myself and I’ve been thinking it would be nice to buy a place like this. Obviously not as huge, but something nice, and private. A lakeview would be nice, or some mountains. Anyway, there’s plenty of spots like that for sale all over. Brooklyn’s home. And it’s nice. But this is...different. It’s soothing.”

Bucky’s watching him now, but Steve stares at the pool and sips his drink. His eyes focus on the ripples of the water, the glow of the sun overhead reflecting in the clear pool.

“Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“Have you been thinking about this a lot?”

Steve just shrugs nonchalantly, his eyes briefly flickering over to Bucky’s. The other man leans up on one elbow, turning in Steve’s direction.

“So how much money do you have?”

***

Steve is already asleep when Bucky enters his room, stealthily, quietly, but even the smallest jostling of the bed wakes Steve. He’s not startled, but his mind is still hazy from sleep so he’s not even thinking as he turns over towards Bucky’s side. Funny, how they each have a side of the bed that’s theirs. His arm falls down, inches from Bucky. Sprawled in the middle of the bed now he’s too tired to wonder about the man lying very still at the edge of the bed.

He’s more horrified in the bright light of morning. Raising his head from the pillow, his heart skips a beat as he’s almost nose to nose with Bucky. He doesn’t move a muscle- can’t move, because Bucky’s fast asleep by his side, his lashes kissing his cheeks. Steve can count each one if he wants to. Bucky’s lips are slightly parted, even, warm puffs of breath just reaching Steve. 

Bucky didn’t bother with blankets and Steve gets a closer look at the myriad of scars all across his torso. Any one of those could have been fatal if not for the super serum running through Bucky’s veins. He starts to reach for one but remembers himself. He lies very still, wondering when Bucky succumbed to sleep. 

In the end, the needs of his own body win out over even the needs of his friend. After more than an hour of lying inert, he carefully slides out of bed and heads to the bathroom down the hall, so as not to wake Bucky. 

He’s not sure if he should watch over Bucky as he wakes, or if that’s overstepping. In the end, he heads down to the kitchen, where at least there are knives around if things go south. He makes some omelets, taking care to add a few veggies and shredded cheese. He’s just placing them on plates when he hears footsteps behind him.

Slowly turning, he glances over to the nearest knife. His hands full of plates he watches Bucky walk over, a sleepy grin on his face. He nearly drops the plates out of relief. 

“Morning,” Bucky says, grabbing a plate from Steve’s hands and seating himself at the island. Steve waits a beat and joins him.

“Good morning. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

Bucky digs into his eggs. “Nah, but the smell carried upstairs I think. Fuck these are good.”

Steve smiles. “Practice makes perfect.” Bucky’s wearing one of Steve’s shirts. The lazy bum couldn't be bothered to walk back to his own room and grab a shirt. Not that he minds. In fact, it looks even better on him. He settles on a stool next to Bucky, placing his plate on the marble. 

He casually observes Bucky between bites. He does look well-rested, softer around the edges. The scruff on his face is getting longer. Soon it will be longer than his hair, he thinks in amusement. Bucky’s always been an attractive figure, but this is the first time Steve thinks on it for longer than he probably should. He turns back to his food.

Bucky’s wiping his mouth with a napkin, plate empty. He grins in thanks at Steve and heat floods his face. He masks it by drinking his coffee for a long minute. He nearly drops the mug when he suddenly feels a warm finger graze his cheek. Startled, he stares at Bucky with wide, confused eyes.

“Sorry, had a bit of egg there,” Bucky quips with a smirk, and goes to the sink to dump his plate. Steve’s heart is about to implode and his head is pounding nonsensically. He’s fairly certain he looks a fright, but Bucky pays him no heed as he pours his own cup of coffee, adding plenty of sugar to it. Steve finally closes his mouth and pretends his hand isn’t shaking as he takes another bite.

“I think I’m gonna head out for a jog. Wanna come?” Bucky asks as he quickly finishes his coffee. Steve has to concentrate on the words, his brain calming down enough to interpret them.

“Um, I think I’m gonna sit this one out. Not really a fan of running after eating. You go ahead.” 

Bucky shrugs and runs upstairs to presumably change. When he’s out of the room Steve drops his fork and the charade.

“Fuck,” he whispers fiercely to the empty room. There is no forthcoming reply. He rubs at his temples and shuts his eyes for a long moment. There is no relief. He gives up and throws out the rest of his breakfast, appetite extinguished. He stays in the kitchen until he hears the front door open and shut and only then does he venture out. 

He collapses on the leather sofa in the living room, staring blankly at the massive fireplace opposite him. Thoughts churning, stomach rebelling, he wonders if he’s spiraling out of control. It’s ridiculous, of course, and Steve knows it. He’s literally losing his shit over absolutely nothing. 

He sighs and feels the need to hit something. It’s been a while. Maybe that’s what he needs. Something physical. He gets off the couch, and heads downstairs, to Tony’s workout room. He noticed it in passing as he inspected the place but now it appears even bigger than he remembers it.

Treadmills, ellipticals, bikes, balance balls, dumbbells in every size. And there, in the corner, precisely what he is looking for. He approaches the large punching bag, ignoring the gloves laying off to the side. He doesn’t need them, not really.

He tests it out by throwing a perfectly placed punch in the center. The bag only sways slightly. He smiles, and proceeds to beat the shit out of it. It’s exactly what he was looking for. Punch after punch, he feels his stress leaching out of him, his adrenaline building. He’s not even sure how long he’s at it for but when he finally stops, he’s actually sweating and his knuckles are bruised and swollen.

He sits back on his haunches, relishing the sound of blood pumping in his ears. It doesn’t take him long to regain his strength or his breath but he doesn’t go a second round. He already feels more like himself, more centered and focused. He decides to shower.

When he’s finished he takes a walk to the docks, some leftover bread from the kitchen in hand. Feet dangling off the side it doesn’t take long for the local ducks and geese to congregate around the free meal. 

A shadow obscures the sun above and he tilts his head to find Bucky there, eyes on the birds. He never even heard him approach. Bucky eventually takes a seat right next to Steve, idly watching him feed the birds.

“What happened to your hand?”

Steve stills, automatically looking at his bruised knuckles. He tosses the remainder of the bread into the lake and wipes his hands on his shorts. “Tony has a punching bag in his basement gym.”

Bucky nods as if it makes total sense. “Sometimes I want to hit something, too. It’s getting easier though, controlling those urges.”

“But it never really goes away.” It’s not a question so Bucky doesn’t bother answering it. Steve turns back to watch the ducks dispersing. “We’re men of war. Despite the darkness and the carnage, that...feeling you get when you go into battle, it’s like nothing else. Not many people can do what we do.”

Bucky touches his metal arm with his right one, softly gliding along the plates. “It was the only time I was truly free,” Bucky says. “When they put the guns and knives in my hands and sent me away… I loved it. In the field I was in charge. Every move, every kill. I still remember the insatiable freedom. Everyone and everything was at my disposal until the job was finished. I still remember what that felt like.”

Steve turns his head, melancholy eyes grazing over Bucky’s slouched posture. “No one’s controlling you anymore, Buck. You are free.”

Bucky scoffs, his lip curling mockingly. “I’m not free. This isn’t freedom. I’m a wanted and hunted man. This is just a pleasant reprieve. A giant cage I occupy. My mind is now my own, true, but it’s only a matter of time before I’m taken away.”

“I won’t let them.”

Bucky turns to face him, his eyes dark and stormy. “I know you’ll try. But in the end you’re just one man. Maybe they won’t kill me or imprison me. Maybe they’ll study me, inch by inch. I’ll never see daylight again.”

“Bucky, stop.”

“Does it frighten you, never seeing me again?”

Steve swallows, his blood going cold. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re not a ghost anymore. You’re real and you’re here and if they took you…”

Bucky searches Steve’s face. “What would you do?” he asks in a low voice and Steve’s eyes dart to his lips before turning back to the lake, his heart hammering. 

“I would find you. Again.”

Bucky says nothing, his eyes contemplative and dark. Steve elbows him gently to get his attention. “Want lunch?”

Bucky quirks his lips. “I’m all sweaty. I should probably shower first.” Steve can’t help the smile from forming. “Yeah,” he crinkles his nose in mock disgust, “you definitely should.” Bucky elbows him back, less gently. They both stand and walk back towards the house. 

As Bucky heads for a shower, Steve goes to the kitchen to prepare something. He’s not even super hungry. He just wanted to change the somber subject. He hates it when Bucky talks about himself like he’s already done for. It breaks Steve’s heart every time. He wants to take Bucky away from everyone, away from civilization where no one’s ever heard of the Winter Soldier. 

He sighs deeply as he makes some sandwiches. Leaving the country is out of the question unless he steals the Quinjet or they hike across the border to Canada. It’s doable and he thinks Bucky might like it there. There’s plenty of remote spots, he’s sure, and still not too far from civilization, for the basic needs. He’s still mulling the prospect over when Bucky walks in, wearing Steve’s navy lounge pants and a white tank top. He blinks at the visage, then goes back to cutting the sandwiches. Bucky comes closer.

“Can I help with something?”

Steve looks up, the ache in his chest prevalent every time he meets Bucky’s eyes. He gives him a quick smile, and hands him a plate. “Not much help needed for sandwiches,” he quips, adding some chips from a bag to Bucky’s plate. He gets a wide grin in return-Bucky really loves chips- and his heart palpitates awkwardly behind his ribcage. He turns to the sink with the pretense of washing his hands and after a moment, joins Bucky at the island.

Bucky still hasn’t shaved, his beard growing in thicker than ever. Even his hair is filling back in again. It’s a look Steve’s never seen on Bucky, and he makes sure to commit it to memory. He’s been doing that a lot lately, ever since Bucky came back into his life. Treasuring every second, stealing looks, memorizing every new quirk that makes Bucky tick. He has decades to catch up on.

“I’m thinking I’d like a go at the punching bag,” Bucky says, wiping his mouth. Steve’s finishing up his chips and pauses to listen to Bucky’s words. His mouth quirks curiously.

“Have a sudden need to beat something up?”

Bucky smirks. “Always.”

Steve’s not sure if he’s joking or not, but he smiles anyway and promises Bucky he’ll take him to the gym after dinner. 

***

Bucky instinctively throws his left arm, metal fist connecting with the more fragile leather of the bag. Steve winces as the bag shifts dramatically. Bucky lets loose for a few moments as Steve watches by the side. It’s mesmerizing, the fluidity of Bucky’s movements. They are precise and agile and hypnotic. Steve shamelessly observes him, daring to come closer. 

There’s an animalistic approach to Bucky’s punches. He holds nothing back, his eyes dark, his mouth an unmistakable snarl, the metal glinting off his bionic arm. Steve still remembers watching in shock as he threw his shield as hard as he could, only for it to be snatched like a toy by the Winter Soldier. 

Bucky grabs the bag, stilling it, his nostrils flaring, his chest heaving. For a brief second, Steve’s not sure who the man is standing in front of him. But Bucky glances at him, throws him a wide, satisfied grin, and Steve’s heart eases up a bit. 

“Nice, huh?”

Bucky inspects the bag, his nose scrunching up at the obvious damage. “I think I owe Stark a new one.”

Steve grins. “I have a feeling he never even comes down here. I wouldn’t stress too much over it.”

Bucky takes a deep breath. “That was fun. But unfortunately there’s not much of a challenge when the bag can’t fight back.”

And Steve can never resist a challenge. He steps close to Bucky, dramatically lifts his arms up in a mock fighting stance. Bucky’s brows rise to his hairline, his mouth parting ever so slightly. For a long beat Steve thinks Bucky will refuse the offer. He’s not sure if he’s relieved or annoyed.

Bucky’s eyes go cold and serious and his body goes from relaxed and liquid to rigid and robotic. Steve’s heart hammers angrily. His mind is screaming at him. He tries to ignore all of it. He knows Bucky’s waiting for Steve to make the first move. He clenches his fists, the skin over his knuckles tightening deliciously.

He throws the first punch because he knows Bucky’s not going to, but it’s all that’s needed for Bucky to go full on soldier. He moves with a speed that startles Steve, given it’s been quite a while since he had to witness him in action. He’s very careful of where he aims, and Steve can tell he’s pulling his punches, speed or no. He jabs Bucky in the lower ribs, enough that Bucky’s eyes widen ever so slightly.

Somehow they end up on the floor, Bucky knocking Steve’s knees off balance. He doesn’t even have time to break his fall before Bucky’s leaning over him, metal fist raised. Steve just has time to move his head before the fist slams into the padded floor. By some miracle Steve is able to maneuver them so he’s on top, but Bucky’s having none of it. 

He knees Steve in the lower gut and as he’s attempting to regain the upper hand Steve sneaks a dirty punch near Bucky’s liver and doesn’t care for the grimace that crosses Bucky’s face. In fact, as they’re both attempting to stand, Bucky swings his left arm, clearly aiming for Steve’s chest, but Steve isn’t fast enough and doesn’t get the leverage to fully rise and instead gets punched right in his chin. 

His brain reverberates inside his skull and his eyes instinctively water and he nearly drops back down but Bucky grabs his arm and hauls him up.

“Fuck! Steve are you ok?”

Steve finally opens his eyes only to find Bucky eerily close. There’s a panicked, regretful look in Bucky’s eyes as they dart to Steve’s pulsing chin. He tries to move his jaw around and aside from the throbbing pain, he doesn’t think it’s cracked or broken. Just for reference he raises his hand to properly grasp and prod the area.

“All good,” he proclaims, but Bucky looks a mess. “Hey,” he says soothingly. “I’m fine, Buck, really.”

Bucky looks down, so Steve grabs him by the wrists. “I’m serious. It was my stupid mistake, anyway. That’s what I get for not working out more,” he jokes. It’s to no avail. Bucky stares at him in disbelief and Steve can only imagine what’s running through his head. He holds on tighter.

“Bucky, this is nothing. Just a bruise and it’ll be gone by midday tomorrow. Please stop torturing yourself.”

Bucky clenches his jaw, eyes locked on Steve. “I told myself I’d never hurt you again. Not like before.”

“This is not like before, Bucky,” Steve says firmly. “_You’re_ not like before.”

Bucky’s lips part but whatever he was going to say evaporates as he looks away from Steve in defeat. Steve reluctantly lets go of Bucky’s arms, watching the other man retreat, both physically and mentally.

“I’m gonna go shower,” Bucky says in a dead tone. Steve watches him leave.

***

That night, Steve can’t get to sleep. He tosses in the dark, first too hot, then too chilly. Blankets on, off. It’s past midnight but his heart pulsates rapidly, nonstop for hours. He looks over to his side, to the empty space in his bed. 

Bucky never showed up. Steve was so used to Bucky sleeping in the same bed that now he can’t even get to sleep without the other man. It’s beyond distracting. He knows Bucky is avoiding him, probably out of misplaced guilt. He reaches up to touch his chin. It’s still tender, and in the bathroom earlier he saw the unmistakable bruise taking shape. He shrugged it off. It’s not like he’s never had worse.

He understands why Bucky was horrified by his action, accident or not. But for Steve, it honestly is a non issue. He knows Bucky would never hurt him. He should leave it alone, let Bucky alone with his thoughts. But Bucky’s mind is not always the safest place to venture to. In fact, it was more a bog of madness. 

Fuck it.

Steve throws his covers back and pads across his room to the door. He pulls it open, takes a peek next door where Bucky’s currently brooding, and makes a decision. He approaches quietly, and knocks twice before letting himself in.

The room is dark, the curtains drawn so not even a sliver of moonlight could break through. His eyes adjust quickly and take in Bucky’s bright eyes staring at him from the bed. Of course he’s not asleep.

He sighs and walks over to the bed. He pulls back the covers none to gently and slides in, adjusting his pillow. There is utter quiet. Then:

“Steve, what are you doing?”

Bucky’s voice sounds confused and intrigued, and Steve shuts his eyes in delight at hearing it again.

“You weren’t there. I couldn’t sleep.” 

More quiet. Bucky is so utterly still Steve thinks perhaps he’s somehow, stealthily, left the room. It’s not until he hears the resigned sigh and the rustle of blankets that he realizes Bucky’s lying down. Steve smiles into his pillow.

“I didn’t realize you were so dependent,” Bucky says softly, and Steve isn’t sure if that was a joke or not. He turns over so he’s facing him and finds himself closer than he anticipates. Bucky’s eyes are alert as he meets Steve’s.

He loses his train of thought briefly, flashing a quick grin. “Just looking for someone to watch my six, is all. Who else am I gonna trust?”

Bucky’s mouth is downturned and Steve has a sudden urge to run his finger against his lips just to see if he can change that. Wants to see what else can happen. His traitorous thoughts aren’t helping anything, he muses.

“You have the Avengers,” Bucky says with a furrow between his brow. “They can protect you far better than I could.”

“But they’re not you.”

Bucky scoffs. “What’s so special about me?” It’s a rhetorical question, a self-loathing question, but Steve replies instinctively.

“Everything.”

Bucky is surprised, his eyes searching Steve’s for anything resembling a lie. But Steve’s never been a good liar, and he’s certainly never tried it with Bucky. 

“Why’d you never get married?” Bucky asks him softly. Steve is so thrown off by the question he blinks in confusion, voice lost.

“Is it just cause of Peggy? Was that your one love of your life? I’d have thought girls would be lining up for you.”

There’s a genuine curiosity in Bucky’s voice but Steve doesn’t care for it at all. In fact, the line of questioning is making him queasy.

“At first it was probably because of Peggy. When I... woke up, it seemed like just yesterday that I spoke with her. That I promised her a date. So it took my brain a long while to make peace with it all. That my life was forever changed. That I had no choice in the matter and I had to move on.” He sighs, an ache in his chest forming. 

“But then, even after I joined the Avengers, I felt like I found a new purpose, and there was just too much to do, too much in the way, to think of anything as menial as a relationship.” He looks down at the bedsheets, cheeks going flush. “And yes, there were girls that were interested. But I think-” He breaks off, suddenly aware of how much he was exposing himself to Bucky. To this new Bucky, that knew nothing of the old Steve.

“What?” Bucky gently prods, his head tilted in attention. And suddenly Steve wants to tell him, badly. Wants to just lay it all out for him. He catches Bucky’s eyes.

“None of it felt right. At least before, in my small, frail body, I knew where I stood. I knew the girls only talked to me because of you. I was no one. Nothing. Insignificant. Invisible.

“After the serum, there was a visible difference in the way people spoke to me. In the way women looked at me. But I didn’t know what to do with that. And war was upon us. I felt like I didn’t want to bother with it all. Plus, there was Peggy. Even then I felt like I didn’t stand a chance with her. And in the end, I never did find out. One kiss is all I got.”

“And now?” Bucky asks innocently, boiling Steve’s insides without realizing it.

“And now nothing. I’ve been approached. I’ve been flirted at, propositioned. Kisses on cheeks, long looks. And I feel nothing. I feel empty.” His confession startles even himself. He doesn’t look at Bucky, because there’s more to tell. “It’s just nothing I want.”

“What do you want?”

The question might be innocent or curious, but Bucky’s voice is dark and low and Steve’s brain haywires because he could just tell him. This is the perfect opportunity to do so. Bucky’s asking, for fuck’s sake. But then he thinks of what Bucky’s life was like these past seventy years. The isolation, the torture. The only human contact was with his captors or with the strangers he was forced to eliminate. Does he even know what it is to be enraptured by another person? Would he even want that burden? His heart is beating so loudly there’s no way Bucky can’t hear it. His friend is utterly still, waiting for whatever Steve has to offer.

In the end, his conscience wins out over his heart. He turns away from Bucky and lays flat on his back, eyes on the ceiling.

“I guess what I want doesn’t matter. Maybe it doesn’t even exist.”

Bucky says nothing to that, and Steve swallows down the lump of guilt and closes his eyes against the world. He’s shocked he even falls asleep.

Bucky is not there when he wakes.


	11. Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mature Content Warning for this chapter.

There is a chill in the air that has nothing to do with the weather. The sun still burns warmly, the lake glitters, inviting, and the birds chirp enthusiastically. But the change is there, regardless. Steve picks up on it with the aloofness that Bucky exhibits whenever they are in the same room. Which, is not for long. 

Bucky’s mostly missing from the house, choosing to go for a jog, or to the forest, or to the pool. Basically, anywhere where Steve is not. At first he thinks he’s over-exaggerating but ever since the night that they spoke, Bucky has been studiously ignoring him. Steve is hurt by the thought, but is not surprised. He opened himself up to Bucky and then last minute he shut him out. Bucky is justified in feeling slighted. Still. It stings.

He hates the sudden distance between them. Bucky stays in his own room at night and Steve doesn’t dare to join him. At dinner Bucky usually grabs his plate and heads to his room, or outside to eat. Steve doesn’t follow. He doesn’t know what to say to make it better. But he knows it hurts. 

Anxiety is not something he usually discusses with others. Even people close to him. He leads the Avengers and that’s what people look to him for. What goes on in his private life is not anything anyone needs to know about. Captain America has a reputation, so to speak. He hates letting anyone down.

But truthfully, his own personal demons have their own way of showing up uninvited. He’s always had it. Even when he was little and couldn’t make friends at school. He built up a tough exterior but it was rough. It didn’t really get better until he met Bucky. And even then it took a while to open up to this boy who was bigger and better and brighter than he was. He thought it was some huge joke being played on him and that one day Bucky would do what all the other kids around him have done. He’d be discarded, laughed at, ridiculed.

But after a year of friendship, Steve finally came to the conclusion that Bucky wasn’t going anywhere. That they really were friends, for some strange reason. One time when he was very sick and confined to his bed he got frustrated and even asked Bucky why he was friends with someone like him. Bucky had given him the most astounded look and called him a stupid idiot for even asking that question. 

His anxiety never truly went away, but it lay dormant for a very long time ever since Bucky came into his life. He gave Steve the courage to fight for himself, to want to fight for his country. When Bucky went to war, his anxiety returned with a force that shocked him. Who was he without Bucky? He vowed to somehow get to Europe, to get back to Bucky and to help with the cause. 

So when he did finally get there, albeit in a different fashion than originally intended, he was horrified to find out Bucky was captured and potentially dead. It wasn’t anxiety then, it was a murderous rage that he’d never known before. He didn’t even think. He just did what he had to do. What Bucky would have done for him.

In the end, Bucky was safe and they were together. For a while. The whole time, Steve was oblivious to the changes in his friend. The Super Serum was already doing its work, and no one even realized it. Bucky was always a great shot, but the range in which he picked out his targets was amazing, his accuracy staggering. No one questioned it. Not even Steve. Maybe if they had more time together. But it was not to be. 

If he shuts his eyes he can hear the wind howling, the train rushing, the metal screeching. The sound of Bucky’s scream as it tore through the air. He can see it as if he were still there, leaning over in agony, arm reaching out. 

He’s very good at hiding it, tamping it down, ignoring it. He’s had to, as an Avenger. He knows what needs to be done, and he does it. Only when he’s alone does it creep back up, reminding him it’s never far away. 

So it’s absolutely no surprise that his anxiety has decided to return as soon as Bucky started to retreat from him. He feels alone again, scattered, lost. He needs to make amends because he despises feeling so helpless. He’s trying to think of what he wants to say, when Bucky surprises him by approaching him, his backpack in hand. Steve eyes it warily.

“I think it’s probably time to head back to Brooklyn,” Bucky announces casually. “Like you said, don’t want to overstay our welcome.”

Steve stares at him for a long minute before blinking rapidly. “Um, yeah, you’re probably right. Let me uh, go get packed.” He watches Bucky head outside, probably to dump his bag in the car. His heart rate spikes unpleasantly as he heads upstairs to grab his own stuff. He makes the bed and makes sure the bathroom is decent.

Then he goes to the kitchen and wipes down the countertops and makes sure all the dishes are put away. They didn’t bring much with them but he grabs the rest of the snacks and some bottles of water and after setting the alarm, he locks up the house.

Bucky’s leaning against the car, smoking, as Steve opens the trunk to dump his bags inside. He stifles a sigh before slamming it shut and getting in the car. He waits for Bucky until he’s done with his smoke and without a word they head out.

***

There’s an accident on the highway, and they’ve been stuck in traffic for over an hour. Steve sighs for the millionth time and Bucky leans back in his seat, eyes shut, ignoring everything. It’s been like this since they left, the silence grating on Steve’s nerves more than waiting in the traffic jam. He’s turned on the radio but it only draws more attention to the lack of conversation. He grips the wheel hard, clenches his jaw. They’ve got another two hours at least in this car, if they even get out of the traffic, and he’s not sure he’s gonna make it without blowing up.

He takes the time to text Sam, just letting him know he’s heading back to Brooklyn and that everything is just fine and he’s still alive. Sam responds with an eye-roll emoji. Steve actually feels a smile forming before remembering his situation.

It’s another half hour before the lanes are open again but at least they’re moving again. The car’s not very large for both their frames and he can see Bucky’s knee so close to his own leg, but the distance might as well be miles apart. This time, the sigh escapes in desperation.

“Bucky.” His voice is small and defeated and he just doesn’t care anymore. He can’t stand the silence. Bucky doesn’t acknowledge him.

“Come on, Buck. Talk to me. I know you’re angry. Just, don’t shut me out. Not you.”

Bucky doesn’t open his eyes or budge from his position. “I’m not sure what you want me to say,” he sighs, and Steve grips the wheel tighter.

“Why are you being like this?” It suddenly sounds petulant and ridiculous, but he hears the frustrated sigh and Bucky finally sits up in his seat.

“Look, I get you don’t fully trust me, or even know me, and I’m not entitled to know everything about you, but you don’t have to lie to me, you know.”

Steve blinks in utter shock. “Lie? What are you talking about? I’ve never lied to you.” He can practically see Bucky roll his eyes in his periphery. “And you know I trust you, Bucky,” he says softly. 

“I had to cover for you, numerous times. I told your mom lies so you wouldn’t get in trouble. About how you bruised your face tripping over a sidewalk instead of beaten to a bloody pulp by the same bully. Or the time a girl you liked rejected your advances and told all her friends at school and you didn’t want to go so I told your mom you weren’t feeling well and didn’t want her to worry. So she let you stay home. I’ve kept a lot of secrets for you.”

Steve’s heart stills and his mouth parts in shock when he realizes what’s happening. He swerves over to the side of the mostly empty highway and feels his face heating up. He turns to Bucky, eyes frantic.

“You fucking remember that? You _remember_?” He knows he sounds frantic and hysterical but he doesn’t give a shit. Bucky looks back at him, eyes somber.

“Yeah, Steve. I remember.”

Steve grabs the door handle and gets out of the car. The warm air does nothing to help with his scorching body. He takes a few breaths. After a minute, Bucky gets out as well. Steve is suddenly livid.

“How long? How long have you had your memories back?”

Bucky stuffs his hands inside his pockets, looks around at the empty highway, then back to Steve. “Not long. Couple of weeks, maybe.”

“How could you not tell me?” Steve’s tone is accusatory and Bucky’s chest heaves in resignation. 

“I was going to. I just had to make sense of it all first. I think just being away from everything, being with you- it jolted something in my mind. At first it was just random flashes, but if I concentrated really hard I remembered conversations. Then more images. It didn’t come easy. And there’s still so much I don’t remember. I still don’t remember much at all from the war, or when I was captured. Maybe my mind is purposefully suppressing those. I don’t know. Anyway, it’s a lot of childhood stuff, a few from after we graduated. I really was gonna tell you. I just wanted to see if more memories would come. I wanted to surprise you.”

Steve can’t breathe. He’s both thrilled and frustrated. And then he remembers what Bucky said to him just minutes ago. He stands tall.

“You said you kept a lot of secrets for me. Why do you think I’m keeping one from you now?”

Bucky’s eyes grow cool. “Because I’m a fucking spy, Steve. It’s my job to read people. And you’ve always been a horrible liar.”

Steve narrows his eyes. “That’s not your job anymore, Bucky.”

“Don’t change the subject.”

Steve leans over the car. “Oh fuck off, Bucky! Just because we live together and you suddenly got your memories back doesn’t mean I have to tell you every single fucking thing. And where do you get off calling me a liar after everything you’ve done and all the people you hurt? You have more skeletons in your closet and secrets than half the population of Brooklyn! Starting with Tony’s parents.”

The minute he says it he knows he’s fucked. Bucky instantly shuts down, his face a mask of ice. “There’s the real Steve Rogers.”

Steve briefly shuts his eyes, fists clenching. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Bucky. That was a shitty thing to bring up.” He takes a deep breath, his gut churning unpleasantly. “I’m real sorry, Buck.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything, choosing to get back into the car. Steve grits his teeth, fists about to smash the roof of Tony’s car. He takes another shaky breath and follows suit. He clicks his seatbelt but doesn’t make a move for the wheel.

“Bucky, look at me.” The other man stares out the passenger window, hands clasped in his lap. 

“Just drive,” he finally says, and Steve feels the guilt gnawing its way throughout his whole body, seeping him of energy. He drives.

***

The sun is just setting as Steve pulls up to his Brownstone. The rest of the ride was uneventful and awkward, not a single word shared between them. Steve just wants to sleep for a damn week and forget the mess he started. Bucky gets out first, grabbing his backpack from the trunk. Steve follows after a minute. 

For one panicked moment he thinks Bucky won’t follow him inside, won’t want to remain with him. But he merely follows Steve upstairs and waits patiently as he unlocks the door. When they get inside, Bucky heads towards the guest bedroom and shuts the door behind him.

Steve stands still, staring at the closed door. That bedroom doesn’t have a shred of furniture in it. His heart aches uncomfortably. He heads to his own bedroom, slipping off his shoes, and lays upon the bed, not bothering with his clothes. It’s still in the apartment and periodically he glances at the clock by his bed. The hours pass, but Bucky doesn’t make an appearance.

He’s not remotely hungry, but he wonders if he should make dinner anyway. Truthfully, he doesn’t have the energy to do much of anything. He rakes a hand through his hair and feels his lids growing heavy. The clock ticks on the nightstand beside him and he eventually dozes off.

When he does wake up, it’s to instant panic. His eyes dart to the time and he sits up in bed, ears alert. There’s not a sound to be heard inside the apartment. It’s just past midnight and Steve knows Bucky is still in that empty room. And he just can't stand it anymore. He feels sick to his stomach, the guilt ever-present. He thinks back to his words on the highway and wants to throttle himself. 

He approaches the door, the apartment in complete darkness. With trepidation, he knocks softly. There’s no answer. Bucky’s either ignoring him or he’s asleep- on the floor. He steels himself and goes inside.

His eyes only need a few seconds to acclimate to the darkness and then he notices Bucky. He’s sitting in the corner of the room, one leg propped up, the other listless on the hard floor. Steve mentally winces as he gets closer. He’s standing over Bucky, his heart shattering slowly, before slowly crouching down. 

“Bucky.”

“Go away, Steve.” His voice is tired, dead, but Steve winces anyway. He sighs, his eyes heavy with regret.

“Bucky, I’m an ass, ok? I’m sorry for the shit that I said. I swear I didn’t mean it. Please come to bed. I don’t want you staying in here like this.”

Bucky leans his head back against the corner of the wall, eyes locked on Steve. “People never say the shit they mean. Except when they do. Except when provoked. I’ve done this for seventy years, Steve.” His tone is mocking but his eyes are dead, exhausted. Steve can’t look away.

“I’m really angry with the world right now, Buck. I fucking hate everything. I hate what it’s done to me. And to you. My anger was misdirected, and I’m sorry. But you’re my best friend and I would never intentionally hurt you. You have to know this. I know you don’t fully remember me, and that’s fine, but if you’re so good at reading people, you should already have figured that out by now. And I’m sorry for being a shitty friend. But please don’t shut me out.” 

Bucky cocks his head, eyes listless. “I just… want to be alone right now.”

Steve swallows, his stomach in knots. “Bucky, I can’t leave you here. At least come out to the couch. Please.”

Bucky just stares, like all the energy has leeched out of him. He doesn’t make a move to get up, but his eyes don’t leave Steve’s. “This is fine. I’ve lived in worse.” Steve just sighs, his imagination working overtime. He automatically reaches for Bucky’s hand. It’s so natural, he doesn’t even question it. But it’s short-lived as Bucky snatches it away. 

Steve clenches his jaw, exasperation setting in. And Bucky’s looking at him with a strange glint in his eye. Steve frowns in question. 

“What’s with the mixed signals?” Bucky finally asks, and Steve goes still.

“What?” he finally manages, and Bucky throws him a smirk that’s not all very pleasant. He just shrugs but that mocking, knowing glare is throwing Steve off balance. He actually is about to leave Bucky alone, when Bucky’s words give him pause once more.

“What were you going to say to me, that night? I want you to tell me now. No lies.”

Steve’s pulse explodes and all the blood leaves his face. He swallows hard. “You’re making a big deal out of nothing, Bucky. You’re reading too much into my incoherent ramblings. Didn’t mean anything by it.” He maintains eye contact but Bucky’s a closed-off book.

“Fuck you,” Bucky says after a beat. Steve doesn't rise to the bait. He’s too exhausted and Bucky’s glaring at him with a bitter expression and he hates everything right now. Mostly his traitorous thoughts that brought them to where they are now.

“I don’t know what I want, Buck,” he whispers softly, looking down at the ground. “I wasn’t lying. I’m just tired of trying to be someone and something I’m not. I wasn’t joking about getting the hell out of here. Moving somewhere remote, away from the world, away from everything.”

“With me?” Bucky says for clarification. Steve’s mouth quirks up. “Who else?”

Bucky’s eyes lock onto Steve’s and don’t let go, not until he finds what he’s looking for. Steve’s cheeks are on fire from the close proximity and from the intimate scrutiny. He’s about to back away, leave Bucky to his thoughts when Bucky suddenly leans forward, eyes dark and searching. Steve doesn’t move a muscle.

He can hear Bucky’s heart beating, so close to his own, something he’s never really thought about or paid attention to. But now it matches Steve’s own rapid rhythm and he’s suddenly terrified. He’s about to bolt and Bucky knows it. And he’s faster than Steve. His metal hand whips up and snags Steve by his wrist. But Steve doesn’t look down. He’s too busy watching Bucky’s eyes grow darker, wilder.

Bucky lost his virginity at fifteen. Steve knows this because Bucky told him when he came home from the school dance. He had a dazed expression on his face for the next day and Steve eventually got tired of looking at it. He told Bucky he really didn’t need to know about any of his personal affairs and, true to his word, Bucky never told Steve anything more about his liaisons. That didn’t mean they didn’t happen. The older and more handsome Bucky got, the more girls flocked his way. 

He even dated a few of them for longer than a month. But out of respect for Steve, he never talked about it, except to try to set Steve up with one of his girlfriend’s friends. It never worked out. Steve never dated any girls. Steve never even thought about dating seriously until he met Peggy. She was a force of nature, and he was petrified of her. She was everything Steve thought he wanted. But it was not meant to be. And since her there’s been no one else. 

And now Bucky is looking at him in a way that boils his insides and turns his mouth dry and he is terrified of what it means. Bucky searches his eyes, a glimmer of disappointment showing through.

“You’re really not gonna do it, are you?” he whispers to Steve, who has lost all ability for rational thought. 

“Do what,” he says, but his voice comes out small and shaking. Bucky’s eyes soften slightly and he leans in, stopping an inch from Steve’s mouth. A small sound of desperation slips through Steve’s lips and that’s all the answer Bucky needs.

His wrist still encased by metal, Steve doesn’t breathe as Bucky’s warm lips graze his own, cautiously, languidly. Logic long departed, Steve freezes for an instant before leaning into the kiss, eliciting a strained sigh from Bucky. It lasts but a few seconds before Bucky slowly pulls back, pupils blown wide.

Steve watches as Bucky subconsciously licks his lower lip, almost as if savoring the flavor of Steve’s mouth. Blood rushes south as he stares at Bucky in dazed shock.

“My mind may be fucked up but I’m not broken, Steve,” Bucky manages with the slightest of pouts and Steve feels like a complete asshole. He briefly shuts his eyes, shame coursing through him and Bucky lets go of his wrist.

“I’m sorry if that wasn’t-”

Steve doesn’t let him finish. He lunges forward, crushing Bucky’s lips with a desperation and hunger he’s never felt for anything before. He scrambles over Bucky’s legs until he’s straddling him, his fingers gripping the sides of Bucky’s face, trailing over heated skin.

Bucky’s initial shock wears off and his fingers glide all over Steve’s back, clawing through his shirt, pulling him closer, closer. Steve can barely breathe. He doesn’t think on it long because suddenly Bucky’s moving, freakishly fast and strong, and Steve’s back hits the floor with a thud, and Bucky’s on top of him, arms on either side of Steve. 

Steve grabs onto his hips as his lips never leave the other man’s. Bucky’s all muscle above him, a comforting, heavy weight and he arches into Steve and heat floods through him as he realizes Bucky’s as hard as he is. 

A spike of panic races through Steve but it’s quickly overshadowed by Bucky’s presence, soothing and familiar as always. He drops his arms and stares up at him, overwhelmed. Bucky frowns in worry.

Bucky _has _to know. It’s not like he’s spelled it out for him, but even if he’s figured it out, Steve still feels obligated to tell him. 

He swallows thickly. “You know I’ve never done this before, right?” 

Bucky’s expression turns very neutral. “I surmised.” Steve almost grins up at him because he’s clearly trying to regain some control while taking Steve into account. In the end, he just grabs Bucky’s hips, hard.

“I didn’t tell you to stop.”

Bucky’s eyes close briefly. “Fuck.”

Steve snakes a hand up Bucky’s toned torso, fingers grazing the long stubble on his neck and chin. Bucky tilts his head down lower and Steve inches a finger inside Bucky’s mouth, his hot lips closing around the digit like candy. Steve nearly dies.

Bucky laps at the finger while slowly moving against Steve’s groin, eliciting moans of anguish from Steve, as Bucky looks on in unabashed hunger. Steve’s gonna burst as he arches up against Bucky. It’s like trying to move a mountain.

Bucky sits back and tears off his shirt, tossing it to the side. Steve watches his every movement, like he’s seeing his body for the very first time. It’s like a sculpture, where every single part is perfection. He allows himself to scrape past every ridge of his abs, up his hard chest, fingers grazing the corded forearms. Bucky even allows the more subtle touches to his left shoulder, Steve’s fingers lingering over the ridged scar tissue like it’s a fragile piece of him. 

He’s lost in thought, his mind buzzing, his body humming with suppressed energy. He realizes he loves touching Bucky, wants to feel every inch of him. It’s nothing he’s ever felt before, this desperate need. Bucky grazes his thumb across Steve’s parted lips.

“I want to take you to the bedroom now,” he simply says, and Steve can’t speak. Bucky never breaks eye contact as he slowly stands up, extended his arm towards Steve. He takes it without even realizing it. 

Bucky guides Steve through the darkness, down the hall and into the bedroom, holding Steve’s hand like it’s a lifeline. When they’re in front of the bed Bucky twists Steve around and crushes his lips against Steve’s, his hands blindly pawing at Steve’s shirt. Breaking the kiss briefly, Steve nearly tears off his tee and his bare chest heaves against Bucky’s and the sound that slips through his lips is inhuman.

Bucky pushes Steve back on the bed. Steve groans softly as Bucky’s rough stubble grazes deliciously over his cheeks, his chin, his neck. It’s overwhelming and his heart’s about to burst out of his chest. Bucky’s hands are roaming further south, sliding across his hips, lower, lower.

He forces himself to pull back and gaze into Bucky’s eyes as the man above him cups his straining erection, and it nearly undoes him. Bucky’s parted lips mimic Steve’s own as hot wisps of air loose from their mouths. 

“Take them off,” Bucky breathes, and Steve wastes no time obeying. When Steve is displayed in front of him, Bucky pauses, something between uncertainty and lust sparking on his face. Steve’s suddenly painfully aware that the only reason his body looks like this is because of the serum. Bucky was always fit and attractive, the serum merely enhanced everything that already made him perfect. But Steve…

He feels his face grow hot, thankful suddenly for the dark room. He allows the scrutiny because it’s Bucky and damn it, he knows he’ll do anything for him. 

“You’re perfect,” Bucky says, and Steve grows still. “I can’t believe that other Bucky would choose all those girls over this,” he says in all seriousness. Steve feels a tug on his lips.

“I didn’t always look like this, you know that, Buck. Not to mention, it wasn’t exactly legal back then.”

Bucky frowns. “And now?” His face is a mask of bewilderment and Steve reaches for him, forgets he still knows so little about what’s happened in the world. So many decades lost.

“Now we can do whatever the hell we want.” He leans up on his elbows, a daring look pointed at Bucky. The other man slowly gets off the bed and Steve watches, entranced, as Bucky removes the rest of his clothing.

The bottom half of him is just as impeccable as the top half and Steve can feel his already straining erection begging for mercy as he looks upon Bucky’s own engorged cock. Goosebumps pop up all over his body, despite the warm air in the room. 

“_Fuck_. Come here, Buck,” his voice begs, a mixture of lust and panic. 

For someone who has very little impulse control, Bucky is exceedingly patient with Steve. Excruciatingly so. Steve arches up into him as Bucky explores Steve’s body- mostly with his tongue. Half the time Bucky’s metal arm pins him down, restraining him from spasming off the bed. It’s almost too much, and he’s about to resort to begging until he feels warmth envelope his cock. 

Steve’s shocked it lasts as long as it does, what with the cool metal bracing his body down, and the heat of Bucky’s mouth, the sounds coming from both of them. The experimental ways Bucky’s tongue laps at Steve. He takes every drop Steve has to offer and then some. Steve doesn’t need anyone holding him down after that. He couldn’t move if assassins came through his door right now.

Bucky comes up to lie down next to Steve, throwing an arm across his sweaty chest. “Was that ok?” he genuinely asks, and Steve huffs out a laugh because he still can’t form words. He shuts his eyes in bliss, his whole body humming deliciously. 

As the adrenaline slowly wears off, Steve’s nerves rise up again. Not accustomed to any of this, he realizes he should most definitely reciprocate the pleasure that was bestowed upon him. He turns to face Bucky, his heart racing. He shifts more on his side, his hand slowly moving across Bucky’s chest, down to his stomach. Bucky shuts his eyes and sighs and it’s all the encouragement Steve needs.

Never having backed down from anything in his life, he’s going to try his damn best to make Bucky feel good- even if he has no fucking clue what he’s doing. Bucky’s cock is rigid and leaking and Steve experimentally rubs his thumb across the head, watching enraptured as Bucky’s whole body shudders. 

He tries to think of his own body, and what he generally likes. He takes a deep breath and grabs hold of Bucky’s warm cock, loving the soft sounds Bucky is so desperately trying not to make. He jerks him off, switching tactics depending on the sighs and moans Bucky makes. The nerves slowly dissipate and it’s just him and Bucky and he watches Bucky come undone from his own hand, his mind overflowing with so many different emotions.

Bucky painfully grabs Steve’s wrist as he comes, the veins in his head straining with release. Jaw working, chest heaving, he hardly makes a sound as he comes down from his high. Steve looks at the pearly fluid all over his fingers in wonder. Bucky finally releases Steve’s wrist, his body like liquid on the bed. Steve leans over and finds his lips, snatching a quick, messy kiss before he gets off the bed to clean himself off.

He washes his hands in the bathroom and wets a washcloth for Bucky. When he gets back to bed Bucky hasn’t moved from his spot and Steve slowly wipes him down, admiring every inch of him once again. Then he gets into bed, suddenly exhausted. Arm across Bucky’s chest, he shuts his eyes and listens to the sound of Bucky’s heartbeat, lulling him to sleep.


	12. Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Steve further explore their newfound relationship. Sam comes for another visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loving all the responses to the last chapter! Thanks a bunch to all :)  
Mature Content for this chapter.

For some reason, Steve feared Bucky would withdraw or grow distant after their tryst, but Bucky proves to be insatiable. The morning after, he jerks off Steve, eye contact never breaking, waiting, watching for the moment when Steve falls apart. It’s like he suddenly can’t keep his hands off Steve. Like he is touch-starved.

Steve lets him do whatever he wants. He’s too content and sated to deny Bucky anything. Bucky loves exploring Steve’s body, his eyes roaming, searching. He nips at the sensitive area around Steve’s collarbone and licks trails down his chest. He bestows gentle, warm kisses to the faint scarring, memories he’d rather forget about. He takes Steve apart inch by inch and makes him beg for more.

His mind a constant state of ecstasy, it takes Steve a while before he realizes this is a very one-sided dalliance. Bucky allows Steve to touch him, to devour his mouth, to feel his skin, but as soon as Steve tries anything further, Bucky slips away. At first Steve thought Bucky was just curious about Steve, about everything they were experiencing. But it didn’t take long to figure out something was wrong.

It’s after his fifth orgasm that he decides to broach the subject. Splayed out on the bed without any intent of getting up, he tilts his head towards Bucky.

“Not that I’m complaining or anything, but this feels a bit one-sided, Buck. I’d really like to return the favor.” His fingers trail against Bucky’s leg and he can feel his body stiffen beside him. 

“You don’t have to,” Bucky replies in a disembodied tone. Steve frowns, his suspicions confirmed. He leans up on his elbows to stare down at Bucky.

“What’s going on? And don’t say nothing. We are way past that.” Bucky doesn’t answer. Steve sighs. “Look, I get it, I’m probably not the best at this but I can’t get better if I don’t practice,” he says playfully, trying for a lighter approach. He’s rewarded with a lopsided smirk. His face softens.

“Come on, Buck, let me in.” He sits up and leans back against the headboard, willing to wait all day if necessary. After a couple of minutes, Bucky follows suit, joining Steve at his side. His head bangs the headboard lightly as he releases a strained sigh.

“I’m not a big fan of...losing control,” he starts without looking at Steve. “It’s hard to explain, but it just brings back some dark shit that I’d really rather not deal with.”

Steve grows instantly cold, his heart stopping. “Bucky. Did Hydra...do something to you?” Bucky is quiet for a long while, Steve wonders if he’s ever going to answer. Trepidation grows angrily in his stomach.

“In the sixties I was sent on a mission to take care of an important and wealthy diplomat in a country where it was basically forbidden to be a homosexual. I needed to infiltrate his network and to do that, I needed to get close to him. Very close.” Bucky swallows and Steve doesn’t dare breathe.

“Killing was simple, it took no effort on my part. But suddenly what they were asking of me was a strange and foreign concept to me. And Hydra didn’t tolerate failure or disobedience. To ensure as much, they had to take precautions. My brain had to learn something new. My body did as well. To be honest I took to the torture as well as I did to anything they threw at me. By then I was completely under their control, my memory gone. But that doesn’t mean it was lost forever. 

“It didn’t help that I was strapped down every single time they attempted anything on me, whether it was a memory wipe or a new torture technique.” He chews on his lip and finally turns to Steve. “I just really don’t like to be held down, or restrained, or experiencing the feeling of losing all self-control. And with you… every time you touch me, it’s just really hard not to feel that way. Oblivion sounds great, it just scares the shit out of me.”

Steve is both horrified and ashamed. “Jesus. Bucky, I’m so sorry, I had no idea-”

“Don’t. It has nothing to do with you. It’s something I have to work on and don’t feel like you started something blindly. I wanted this too, Steve.”

It’s quiet in the room for a long while, Steve’s head spinning with wretched thoughts. Despite what Bucky said, guilt roots its way inside him, teasing him, haunting him. He’d been right to doubt his actions. He knew Bucky still wasn’t mentally stable. He knew he was still healing. He was hesitant and now what he feared had come about. And he feels like garbage for being so blissfully unaware these last couple of days. 

“You want some lunch?” he finally asks, trying to sound somewhat normal. Bucky throws him a grateful smile that curdles his insides further and he gives him a quick peck on the cheek before getting out of bed and finally putting on some clothes.

He heads to the kitchen, not really in the mood to cook or eat, but he does it anyway, for Bucky. He puts together a few sandwiches with chips and cherry tomatoes and brings the plates back to bed. Bucky, completely and unabashedly nude, thanks Steve with a blinding smile and they eat in companionable silence, despite the murderous thoughts in Steve’s head.

***

Steve texts Sam and invites him over, the next time he’s in town. He feels like shit for neglecting his friend, especially since Sam practically gave up his whole life to go on a pointless endeavor with him for a year. He owes it to him to put more of an effort in.

While he waits for a reply, Bucky does pushups in the living room, stopping at three hundred. When he gets up he frowns down at his metal arm, forming a first and stretching it back out.

“What’s up?” Steve asks him.

“Not sure, I have a feeling I have a few loose connections ever since the Potomac.” He shrugs it off. “Not like I can have just any tech look at it. It’s funny. It’s not even alive but I can feel the subtle changes to it when something is off.”

Steve is about to suggest Tony take a look at it when his brain quickly catches up to his mouth. He pretends to think on it a moment. “Well, if it gets to really bothering you, I’m sure we can come up with a solution. Maybe Sam or Nat know someone trustworthy.”

Bucky frowns, not liking the idea of anyone getting close to him. “It’ll be fine. I’ll just have to live with it. It’s not like it hurts.”

Steve gives him a sympathetic smile, and turns his attention back to his phone, as Sam finally responds to his text. He asks about coming up next week and Steve tells him it’s fine with him. Then he frowns and looks up at Bucky.

“It ok if Sam stops by next week for a couple of days?”

Bucky’s jaw clenches for a beat and he can’t quite mask what’s in his eyes. “This is your place, Steve. You can have whomever you want over.”

Steve sighs and walks over to Bucky, grabbing him by the shoulders. “It’s your place, too. I can pay for a hotel for him too, you know.”

Bucky looks down for a beat. “No. No that’s- it’s fine. Really. He’s your friend and it would be a dickish move if you sent him away to a hotel.”

Steve can’t help but smile at the almost sincere way Bucky says all that. “You’re the best, Buck. It’ll be great, you’ll see. We’ll play cards, get him drunk, watch him flounder. It’ll be fun,” Steve winks at Bucky, who pulls him in.

“I can think of things way more fun.”

***

Steve lets Bucky fuck him because Bucky asks him and even though the riotous thoughts return, his reply is an incoherent moan that Bucky takes as a yes. Steve doesn’t have lube in the apartment, but Bucky is resourceful and uses some olive oil. 

Bucky rakes his nails up Steve’s back as foreplay and licks a trail from his neck all the way down to where he wants to be. Steve’s already long gone by the time he feels the oil dripping between his thighs. It’s muggy and dark in the apartment and sweat is already forming on his brow. Bucky’s fingers are damp as they grab a hold of his arm and leans close to whisper in his ear.

“Ready?” 

Steve’s eyes shut and he arches his back into Bucky in answer. He’s way past forming sentences. He wants Bucky to have his way with him. For once his anxiety doesn’t make an appearance. 

He feels Bucky’s hands bracing on his lower back, digging almost painfully into his flesh. He takes relish in the touch, knowing Bucky isn’t intentionally trying to hurt him. Knowing he’s restraining from plowing into Steve with rough abandon. The thought is torrid and sinful and he shuts his eyes at the strained moans coming from Bucky.

He’s obliterated in the end, anyway. He can feel the bruises forming under Bucky’s rough hands at every thrust as he arches into him. They are slick with sweat and their own release, Bucky pulling out of him and practically falling across Steve’s back, sated and out of breath. 

They stay like that for a long time, breath ragged and mind blown. Steve feels the dull ache in his loins and inside him and wants nothing more than to feel it again. Bucky is raking his fingers through the back of Steve’s head, making goosebumps form all over. 

“We need to shower,” Bucky whispers and Steve barely nods in agreement, every part of him not wanting to move. He hears the soft laugh above him and a hard weight lifting off his back. Bucky finds his fingers in the dark and grabs hold, gently beckoning. Steve groans but follows Bucky. 

***

The hot spray washes away the remnants of their intimacy, Bucky lathering liberal amounts of suds all over Steve, and somehow he is hard again. Bucky ignores that and washes Steve’s hair, his fingers magic against his scalp. Steve’s not sure how he’s still standing. 

He grabs the sponge from Bucky, says _my turn_ and after a beat, Bucky acquiesces. Steve lathers more wash and starts at Bucky’s back before ending at his toes. It’s all very clinical but Bucky’s sporting a matching hard on by the time he’s done. It just takes one smirk from Steve for Bucky to slam him against the tiles, tongue buried deep down his throat.

When they part for air Steve bangs his head back, as Bucky’s on his knees again. Steve’s fingers lazily paw at Bucky’s shoulders for purchase and his knees are about to give out when Bucky grazes a finger against his ass. And then it’s all over. 

Bucky’s still hard but he takes matters into his own hands- literally. Steve watches, enraptured as he wraps his flesh hand around his cock, his metal one splayed against Steve’s chest. Eyes locked onto Bucky’s he sees the moment rapture hits as Bucky’s cheeks burn red and he has to lean his head against Steve’s shoulder. He wraps his arms around Bucky, somehow holding the both of them up. His heart is full. 

***

Steve decides it’s finally time to fill up that second bedroom, especially given that Sam’s about to visit. He orders everything online, loving the modern convenience of it all. When the bed and other furnishings arrive, Bucky helps Steve set up the room, Steve smirking as Bucky absentmindedly fluffs up the pillows and places them on the bed. 

The morning of Sam’s arrival brings a crisp chill to the air, a reminder that summer is pretty much at an end. Bucky doesn’t mind because he can actually wear his hoody and not look ridiculous in 80 degree weather. Steve’s just astounded the time has passed so quickly. 

He’s somewhat nervous to see Sam again, given the state of things. Not that he’s going to bring up his private affairs to Sam, but it feels different now. And he doesn’t want to make things more awkward. He can already tell Bucky’s not too thrilled about seeing the man again.

They’re just finishing up their breakfast when the buzzer sounds. Bucky pauses a beat before taking the dishes to the sink and Steve goes downstairs to let Sam in. A genuine spike of happiness overtakes him as he sees his friend and Sam grabs him and pulls him in.

“Hey, Cap.”

“Sam. It’s really good to see you again.” 

“Look at you, going all nomad. Taking after your buddy there?”

For a minute Steve is confused but Sam indicates to his growing hair and his shaggy beard and he’s forgotten that he basically gave up on shaving since heading to Tony’s cabin. He shrugs as they walk upstairs. “Kinda going for the unrecognizable look,” he jokes.

They walk inside and Bucky’s near the door, his face blank, his body more tense than usual. He tilts his head towards Sam.

“Wilson.”

“Barnes,” Sam replies in a slightly more cordial tone. “Nice haircut,” he intones and Bucky purses his lips. Steve mentally rolls his eyes. Maybe putting Sam up in a nice hotel wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all.

***

Bucky makes an excuse to go for a long jog and Steve and Sam have some time by themselves. It feels different now, Steve muses. Keeping something important from Sam. Even if the details are personal and private. Sam was a huge part of his life not very long ago and he thinks of him as family. So it’s extremely hard to keep a straight face when Sam predictably brings up Bucky.

“So how have things been? Barnes driving you crazy yet?”

Steve fights the blush. Crazy, yes, but not in the way Sam thinks. He shifts on the couch and picks up his glass of water he placed on the coffee table. Just for something to do. “He’s doing much better, honestly. He still barely sleeps, never cooks and steals all my clothes, but aside from that, I think he’s feeling much more...like himself.”

Sam makes a sound that doesn’t sound all that convincing but Steve just throws him a smirk. “I think going out to the lake was a good idea. It was a nice retreat, for both of us. Seclusion suits us, I think.”

Sam stares at Steve with an odd expression, but it’s gone before Steve can decipher it. His palms grow sweaty with nerves as he takes another sip. Sam takes a swig of his beer.

“So it’s really cool with you guys if I crash here? I mean, if that’s Barnes’ space I don’t want him sleeping on the couch or anything.”

Steve waves Sam off. “Bucky’s good. Like I said, the guy barely sleeps and if he does we kind of just bunk in my bed. It’s way too big for one person anyway,” he huffs, and Sam just throws him the look again, which Steve studiously ignores. He instead changes the subject towards Sam’s life and family.

They chat for a while longer and Bucky reappears with take out. It’s from their favorite Indian place, but Steve remembers Sam doesn’t care for spicy food. He throws Bucky a deliberate look, but Bucky is quite good at ignoring him. He lays out the food at the table and grabs his pack of cigarettes and heads towards the bedroom. Steve suppresses the sigh forthcoming.

“Still social, I see.”

“Sam.”

Sam puts his hands up. “Joking, just joking. But seriously though, the guy barely knows me. What could he possibly have against me?”

Steve frowns in thought. “I’m honestly not sure, but I think he doesn’t care for people to know the truth of what he’s done. What he’s had to do. He knows I’m close to you so he automatically assumes you know more about him than anyone else does. There’s some deep-rooted shame inside him. It took him a while to open up to me and I think he looks upon you as just another person judging him.” He shrugs. “At least that’s how I’d feel about the whole thing.”

Sam’s momentarily lost in thought. His eyes, when he finally meets Steve’s are contrite and pensive. “I guess I was still sore about him kicking me off a Helicarrier. And him leaving you for dead.”

“Sam-”

“I know. I really do get it. I’m just messing with you. But you gotta admit he’s a hard character to get to know.”

Steve glances back towards the bedroom. “He is. And I get why he’d want to close himself off to people. Trust issues and all.” He sighs, his mind a whirlwind of somber thoughts. “I really wish you’d known him back before the war. He was something else back then.” A smile tugs on his lips. “I wish you could have seen him as I did.”

“War changes everybody.”

Steve looks at Sam, their faces mirroring each other. “Yeah, it definitely does.”

***

Sam eats the food without complaint, though he does refill his glass of water a few times. Steve had to coax Bucky off the balcony to eat with them. After a long suffering sigh, he agreed. 

“So Barnes, you still remember how to play poker?” Sam asks him during the meal. Bucky looks at him in mild surprise. “I remember.”

“Cap, you up for a game later?”

Steve glances at Bucky, then back to Sam. “Hell yes.” 

Sam nods in acknowledgement. “Alright, poker it is.” Steve inwardly smiles at the olive branch, but gets distracted by Bucky fidgeting with the plates on his metal hand.

“Still bothering you, Buck?”

Bucky flexes his hand, and Steve notices some of the smaller plates not quite gliding as smoothly as the others. “I think there’s a broken circuit or something. Just feels off.”

Steve frowns and Sam tilts his head to get a better look. “Bucky, I think we’re gonna have to find someone to look at it,” Steve tells him, earning him a narrowed look.

“Can’t your friend Tony take a look? Clearly he knows technology.” Both Steve and Bucky turn to Sam, the same shocked expression on both their faces. Sam looks from one to the other.

“Uh, Is that not ok? I thought we talked to Tony about him?” Sam turns to Steve.

Steve swallows, sparing another quick glance at Bucky. “Tony is aware of Bucky, yes. But it’s quite another to have him wandering around Stark Tower. The cameras, the AI… I’m just not sure it’s the best place to bring him, Sam.”

“I get it, but that’s Tony’s home. He can literally do what he wants there. I’m sure he can disable the cameras and do what has to be done. His hand needs fixing and you are literally friends with probably the only guy in the world who can do it. Seems like a no-brainer to me.” Sam goes back to eating and after a moment, Bucky does too, though he doesn’t say much more the rest of the meal.

In the evening they play poker for a couple of hours and even though Bucky is attempting to sound engaged and cordial, Steve knows him well enough by now to realize his mind is a million miles away. So much so that he doesn’t win a single round. Sam eyes him with a confused frown.

“Cap, you up for a walk around the city tomorrow? I wanted to check out a few places I missed last time.”

Steve spares a quick glance at Bucky, who is absentmindedly shuffling his cards. “Uh yeah, it’s been a while for me, too. I’m game.” After a beat, Sam looks at Bucky. “If you cover that arm up of yours you’re welcome to hang, too.”

Bucky actually looks surprised at the invitation, but Steve already knows he’s going to decline it, even before the words come out.

“I’m good, thanks. You too should catch up. Probably not a great idea for me to be out in such a busy place, anyway.”

Sam shrugs. “Well, invite’s there.” They play another round before Sam starts yawning. “Sorry, long ride here. I fucking hate traffic.”

“You should rest, Sam. We set up a TV in the guest room, and there’s fresh towels and anything else you might need in the bath.”

“Thanks, Cap. I think I just might knock out early tonight.” Sam bids them goodnight and Steve and Bucky head to the living room to watch something mindless for a while. Steve notices Bucky sits farther apart than usual. He elbows him gently.

“What’s going on, Buck?”

Bucky merely purses his lips and tilts his head back against the couch. “Nothing. Just tired, I guess.” Steve lets the lie slide, hoping Bucky will tell him when he’s ready. He pats him on his thigh.

“Come to bed, then.”

Bucky glances at him with wide, blinking eyes. “Not while Wilson’s here. I’ll stay on the couch. You go on.”

“I kind of mentioned we sometimes share the same bed.”

Bucky doesn’t look as horrified as he thought he’d be. More baffled. He loves the crease between the brow and brushes his finger against it, watching as Bucky’s eyes involuntarily flutter. It doesn’t take much coaxing after that. 

***

Steve has to bite down on his own hand to prevent the moan that nearly slips from his lips as Bucky swallows his cock and every last drop down. He feels flushed all over, like his head’s about to implode and he takes a few shuttered breaths before feeling somewhat normal again. Bucky grins cheekily and Steve would give anything for Bucky to always look that content.

The orgasm takes a lot out of him and the drowsiness takes over. Bucky’s stroking his forehead and it’s not long before sleep claims him.

It’s pitch black when he’s shaken from his slumber. Heart rate increasing, it takes a minute to realize Bucky’s thrashing in bed, his head flailing back and forth against the pillows, the cords in his neck straining against the pale skin. Even in the dark, Steve can see the sheer anguish on Bucky’s face.

He places a hand on his chest to wake him and it’s instantly snatched up, Bucky’s eyes popping open with a feral ferocity. The grip doesn’t loosen and he grimaces because if it were any tighter, he’d feel the bones crack. He doesn’t move. 

“Bucky, it’s me, Steve.”

Bucky blinks, his pupils so dilated it looks unnatural. But he immediately lets go and literally scrambles off the bed. His chest heaves with an urgent need and his hands are shaking and there are beads of sweat all over his face and chest. For one second Steve thinks Bucky might get sick but after a few more unsteady breaths, he grabs the pack of cigarettes on the nightstand and goes out onto the balcony.

Steve watches him go, rubs a hand across his face and goes after him. It’s a cool night and they’re not wearing a stitch of clothing. Goosebumps form all over Steve’s skin and he suppresses the urge to shudder at the cold. Bucky meanwhile is sitting on the freezing floor, knees drawn up, puffing away with a spooked look on his face. 

Steve doesn’t feel like literally freezing his ass off so he pulls up one of the cushioned patio chairs and sits down, leaning forward, forearms resting on his knees. 

“Nightmare?”

Bucky takes a deep drag, head tilting back against the rails as he blows the smoke out into the cold night. “A memory. A few, actually,” he whispers in self-loathing. His eyes close shut.

“How’s your arm?”

“Fine,” Steve automatically replies, not even bothering to glance at it. He’s more concerned with how Bucky is. His heart physically hurts whenever Bucky gets like this. He’d been doing well these past few weeks. An ugly reminder that the damage is long-reaching. 

“My head fucking hurts,” Bucky says, like it’s a novel concept to him. He finishes his smoke and looks about to grab another. A long, strangled sigh escapes from his lips and he angrily rubs at his face, almost as if he is trying to dispel whatever horrible thoughts lay within. Steve swallows, waiting.

“I was back in 1991. Back on that empty road. Waiting for the car I knew would drive by. Waiting for the Starks.” He shakes his head and grins, but it’s a hideous, self-depreciating thing. “God, it was the easiest mission ever. It took nothing from me. Hydra even tried to reward me for it. It meant nothing to me. Just another mission. Another checkmark. Except their faces are etched into my brain forever. They’re all haunting me. And when Sam mentioned Tony earlier…”

Steve sighs, hangs his head. Damn it. Of course. “I’m sorry, Buck.”

Bucky looks up at him, eyes dreary. “Why are you sorry? Did you kill them?”

Steve gets off the chair, drops to his knees in front of Bucky, and grabs his cold hands. “Stop it, Bucky. I know it must have been horrible to relive that, I know you hate yourself and I wish to god I can change all that. I wish I could take it all from you. I wish you could see yourself as I do.” He leans down and kisses Bucky’s knuckles, lingering over the trembling flesh. He ignores the cold tile digging into his knees, ignores the chilly weather and the ever-present sounds of the city. He focuses on Bucky, hoping to get through to him, in any way that he can. 

Bucky doesn’t say anything, his eyes a storm of emotions. Steve doesn’t let go of his hands, trailing kisses all over, because if Bucky won’t listen to his words, maybe, just maybe he’ll listen to his heart. 

Eventually, Bucky pulls Steve in, so he’s straddling his lap and he puts his hands to the side of Bucky’s face, kisses him in a way that’s not erotic or needy, but with an urgency that they can both understand. Bucky moans in the back of his throat and Steve goes flush with heat. He can feel the hardness between them, a reminder that their past cannot and will not dictate what happens to their future.

Bucky’s hands are in Steve’s hair, tugging, clenching and he laps at Bucky’s neck, suckling on the coarse flesh there, his tongue gliding over the pulse throbbing in his neck. It’s an automatic reaction, his hand trails south and he’s low enough in Bucky’s lap that he finds the dripping cock, squeezing it so that Bucky bangs his head back against the railing. 

He doesn’t stop Steve. He doesn’t even move as Steve jerks him off, his mouth ravishing Bucky’s neck, bruising his lips, nipping, sucking, leaving his mark. And as soon as he physically hears Bucky’s heart speed up, he scrambles off him and swallows his cock whole. He literally has to grip Bucky’s hips from arching up and choking him.

Bucky never stood a chance. Hands clenching the metal railing above his head, Steve can actually hear the iron groan under the strain of Bucky’s metal hand. He swallows every drop as Bucky shakes above him. He doesn’t make a sound as Steve lifts his head, the tendons in Bucky’s neck straining, his face and chest flushed with restraint. 

Steve relishes the strange taste in his mouth, a giddy thrill rushing through him. He licks his lips, wanting to kiss Bucky but not quite sure what the etiquette is after having another man’s semen in your mouth. Bucky’s eyes are clenched shut, his jaw tight and a tremor of panic goes through Steve. After all, Bucky did warn him against losing control.

Steve gives him a moment, watching horrified as Bucky finally opens his eyes, moisture leaking from the creases. He doesn’t look at Steve, his head still tipped back, leaving a wet trail down his cheeks. Steve’s heart breaks at the sight. The last time Steve saw Bucky cry was when his pet cat died when he was fourteen. 

“Buck…”

Bucky’s jaw works until a strained sigh finally escapes. “This is so fucked up. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have _this_. I’m a fucking monster. Steve.”

Bucky’s voice is bereft of anguish or anger, but Steve reads it all in his eyes. They are lifeless, soulless. Steve ducks his head, unable to look any longer. “Bucky. Don’t do this to me, please.” He touches Bucky’s leg, squeezing hard. “I fucking say you deserve this. I want you to have this all. I don’t care about your past. I don’t care what you did.”

Bucky barks out a bitter laugh, his eyes finding Steve’s. “Do you even know how fucked up that sounds?”

Steve does in fact know. And he found out a long time ago it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t let go of Bucky’s eyes. “I don’t care. All I know is I want you. I want you as my friend. I want you as a brother. I want you in my bed. I’ll take you how I can get you. I haven’t been this content since before the war. Tell me you don’t feel the same.”

A single tear trails down Bucky’s cheek and instinctively Steve reaches out and swipes it away with his thumb. 

“I’m a mess, Steve,” Bucky intones, his voice a somber gravel. Steve purses his lips and gently grabs the sides of Bucky’s face.

“Then you’re my fucking mess, Buck.” He slowly leans in and grazes Bucky’s lips, tasting the salt from his tears. Retreating slightly, he watches Bucky’s eyes until he’s satisfied with what he finds. Then he stands up, his hand finding Bucky’s and pulls him up. They don’t say a word. Steve guides Bucky back inside, closing the door to the balcony. He doesn’t release Bucky’s hand until they’re both back in the bed.

Bucky’s head leans in until it bumps Steve’s chest and stays that way. Steve runs his fingers through Bucky’s growing hair until the other man’s breathing evens out. Only then does he allow himself to sleep.


	13. Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is so nice! Thanks for all the kudos and comments!

Steve wakes up alone, his arm automatically reaching and finding nothing there. Worry takes over but his enhanced hearing picks up the voices down the hall. Steve gets dressed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and heads towards the kitchen.

Bucky and Sam are hovering around the island, conversing casually, as they each chop up ingredients for what looks like omelets. Steve stands stock still for a minute before Sam raises his head in greeting.

“Morning, sunshine. Making some omelets, you in?”

Bucky glances up at Steve, and a warm smile spreads on his face before he resumes his chopping. His heart thaws and before he knows it he’s grinning like a loon.

“I’m always up for omelets.”

“Your man he some serious chopping skills,” Sam states and Steve doesn’t bother disputing that fact. He almost offers to help but it looks like they’ve got everything under control. He announces he’s going to shower and revels in the fact that his friends’ differences have been set aside. At least for the morning.

He showers quickly, thinks about shaving, but in the end goes without. He likes the anonymity it offers. And he knows Bucky loves it when his stubble grazes over the sensitive parts of his flesh. He smiles in memory as he joins the men in the kitchen.

They’re just setting up the table when he walks in and the place smells delicious. Sam piles a large helping on his plate while Bucky pours orange juice for everyone. He can’t help the content feeling in his heart and he really wants to give Bucky a hug. He refrains.

They eat and chat, and even though Bucky doesn’t say much, his eyes crinkle in genuine mirth whenever Sam tells a stupid story or throws out an awkward memory of Steve during their time out of the country. Steve lets it go because he’s too happy at the moment.

Bucky takes care of the dirty dishes, playing a great host, while Steve and Sam finish their coffee.

“Still up for heading into the city?” Sam asks him. Steve shrugs. “You bet. Mind driving, though? The seatbelt got uh, broken in Tony’s car.”

“Sure thing, Cap.” 

Steve gazes over to Bucky. “You sure you don’t wanna join us, Buck?” The other man pauses while loading the dishwasher, looking over his shoulder.

“I’m good, really. Thanks for the offer, but you guys should catch up. I’m gonna hang here, watch some bad TV.”

Steve smirks, loving the humor. He missed that most about Bucky. It was always so easy-going. He’s really hoping he’s feeling much better, after last night. Talking him off the ledge was not something he cares to repeat, but he also understands that the road is still long. 

He heads out shortly with Sam, letting him do all the driving. They make a few stops in the city, avoiding any place near Avengers Tower, and grabbing some food and drinks along the way. The day is mild and sunny and they sit outside at a cafe, watching the people pass them by.

“So Barnes looks to be doing well,” Sam notes idly. Steve isn’t sure how to respond to that. In the end, he goes with the truth.

“He is. And then some days he’s not. He’s made some awesome progress, more than I could have ever hoped for. But that bit of him that they molded, the bit where they destroyed him- that’s still lurking. And he can’t let go of it, because it’s a part of him.” He looks down at his cup of coffee, his thoughts churning.

He hears Sam sigh. “It’s lucky he has you, then. Who knows what could’ve happened if he fell into the wrong hands.”

Steve smiles sardonically. “I have no idea what I’m doing half the time, Sam. I’m just trying to keep him sane, while holding onto what’s left of my own sanity.”

“Looks like you’ve done a hell of a job, Cap. I hardly recognize him anymore. You guys are good for each other.”

Steve’s heart stills. Frowning, he shakes his head at Sam. “It’s not like-”

Sam’s hands go up. “Nope. Don’t even wanna know any details. I’m just saying. Even though you’ve both been through hell, it’s good to see you found each other again.”

Steve looks at Sam, wondering how he ever got so lucky in the friend department. He swallows thickly, and raises his mug to Sam. 

They spend a couple more hours in the city and return back to Steve’s by five. When they walk inside, they find the apartment empty. 

***

Steve doesn’t care if Bucky went out. It wouldn’t be the first time and besides, Bucky knows how to take care of himself. But when the sun goes down and there’s still no sign of him, he starts pacing.

“Cap, will you chill, please? He’s the freaking Winter Soldier. I’m sure he’s fine. You said yourself he sometimes likes to take very long runs- to other boroughs. I’m sure he just got bored.”

Steve says nothing, just stares out the window in growing apprehension. Bucky doesn’t even own a phone. There’s literally no way to reach him. He clenches his fists. 

Sam meanwhile makes a PB&J, glancing up at Steve periodically. He eventually convinces him to sit down, though he can’t quite stomach food at the moment. Sam’s showing Steve some family photos on his phone when the doorbell buzzer sounds through the apartment. Steve is off the chair and rushing downstairs before he’s aware of it.

He yanks the door open and Bucky’s standing there, eyebrows raised. He quirks his lip at Steve’s panicked expression.

“I uh, still don’t have a key. And you hate when I come through the balcony.”

Steve blinks, pulls Bucky into the entryway and shuts the door. “Jesus Bucky. Where the hell have you been?”

Bucky frowns at him. “I took a walk. Can we go upstairs now or are you going to chide me here in front of your neighbor’s door?”

Steve sighs, rubs his face. “Sorry. Fuck. Bucky, I’m sorry, I was just worried. I had no way to get a hold of you.”

Bucky’s expression softens. “I should have left a note. I’m sorry. I had no idea what time you’d be back.”

Steve pulls Bucky into a hug, surprising the other man. “I don’t like not being able to reach you,” he confesses, squeezing the fabric across Bucky’s back. 

Bucky pulls back. “I know. I really should think about a phone. I just… really don’t trust them all that much.”

Phones are traceable, Steve gets it. They’d have to think of something else. They head back upstairs and Bucky retreats into the bathroom. Steve goes back to Sam, who thankfully doesn’t ask questions.

When Bucky returns, they play some cards and eventually move on to the dart board that Steve bought before they left for Tony’s cabin. Sam is surprisingly good at it and eventually it becomes a competition. Steve wins best out of ten. He’s had plenty of practice throwing his shield with precision. Sam scowls and Bucky blinks at Steve suspiciously, like he’s been hiding this talent all along.

Steve runs out after to grab some decent beer and they sit at the table drinking and not being able to get drunk. Sam on the other hand has a few drinks, mostly encouraged by Bucky and he’s slurring half his words before the night is out. Steve has to practically guide him to his room.

He scowls disapprovingly at Bucky afterwards. “Was that actually your plan? To get him completely shit-faced?” Bucky just gives him a sly look, and presses up against him.

“What if it was? What if I wanted him completely oblivious for the night?”

“Why?” Steve plays along, loving the feel of Bucky’s hard body against his own. Bucky snakes his hands inside Steve’s shirt, running fingers up his back. 

“Because I’m going to ravage you, Steve. And I want to hear every sound that comes out of your mouth.” 

Steve’s brain goes away after that, and he lets Bucky lead him to their bedroom, lets him strip off his clothing like it’s tissue paper. Lets him push him down. Steve won’t ever stop letting Bucky do what he wants. Not to Steve. He squeezes his eyes shut and gives in to bliss.

***

Afterwards they lie, panting and sweaty, Bucky’s metal arm draped over Steve’s chest. Steve doesn’t mind the heavy weight. He’s too sated and tired to care or move. He places his hand over Bucky’s metal one. 

“Steve.”

“Hmmm?” Steve could fall asleep. 

“I want Tony Stark to look at my arm.”

Steve’s eyes fly open, all thoughts of slumber completely dissipated. He turns his head towards Bucky. “What? Why? I mean, why have you changed your mind?”

Bucky sighs and leans up on his elbow, and flexes the metal joints of his fist. “You were probably right, about him being the only person who could look at it. Fix it maybe. And. You trust him. And I trust you.”

Steve’s heart batters in his chest. He licks his lips. “Bucky, you know I would never tell him anything about-”

  
“That isn’t what I meant. I know you wouldn’t. But that’s not what this is about. He could be a good ally. And if you trust him, then I know I can, too. Plus, I can’t protect you, or myself, if my arm is not functioning properly.”

Steve’s eyes soften. “Bucky, your arm may be a part of you, but it doesn’t define who you are. And I don’t need protecting, Buck. We’re a team. We help each other. And… if you really want to do this, I’ll be with you the whole way.”

Bucky looks slightly relieved at that. “I was there today. Stark Tower. Or, Avengers Tower, now.”

Steve frowns. “Why? Is that where you were when I was freaking out over here?”

“I was doing surveillance. I just wanted a closer look. To see the level of security, cameras, all that. I was curious about the people coming and going all day. But I figured you can talk to Stark. Get me in there without anyone seeing or knowing about it.”

“Of course, Bucky. We’re not going in there until I know it’s safe for you to do so. Can I call Tony then, tomorrow?”

Bucky’s silent for a minute and Steve can read every emotion travelling through his stormy eyes. But in the end, it’s determination that wins out.

“Yes, call him.”

***

“Hello.”

“Tony. It’s Steve.”

“Oh, hey Cap. Almost forgot you existed since you hung up on me. In my own car.”

Steve suppresses the sigh. He knows he should apologize and be a bit more grateful, but he also knows he has the upper hand in this conversation because he has something Tony wants.

“Look, is this line secure?”

“What do you take me for, Rogers? What’s with all the sudden secrecy.”

“Are you at the tower?”

“Yeeees.”

“Can I stop by? And bring a guest.”

There’s a long pause. Then. “Don’t be a tease, Steve.”

“I’m serious Tony. Last chance. And there are rules.”

“You know I’m no good at following rules, Rogers.”

Steve ignores him. “Security feeds off. We come through the back. Absolutely no one else is involved or sees him. No recordings. No pissing him off.”

Tony blows air into the phone. “You drive a hard bargain, Rogers. But you know I want a peek at that arm.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “When is a good time.”

“Now?”

Steve huffs into the phone. “I’ll call you when we’re outside.” And hangs up.

***

While Bucky sits in deceptive calm, Steve fists the steering wheel like he’s about to tear it off. Bucky watches the cars and people out the window and Steve steals glances at him like he’s afraid to let him out of his sight.

Finally, Bucky speaks up. “Steve, quit it, you’re making me more mental than I already am.”

Steve clenches his eyes shut, feels the tackiness of his palms against the leather steering wheel. “Sorry. I just want this to go right. And with Tony, you just never know. And Avengers Tower is a big place, with a lot of people.”

Bucky sighs. “You don’t have to go in with me.” Steve actually swerves his whole body towards Bucky, never mind the traffic they’re in. 

“Are you fucking kidding me? I’m not letting you anywhere near Tony unsupervised.”

“Thought you trusted him.”

“There are levels of trust.” He sighs, wiping at his forehead. “Look. I trust Tony with my life. But. He’s like Howard times ten. He fixates and obsesses and once he sees you… I’m not all that certain he won’t cage you in his lair and tinker with your arm.”

Bucky actually laughs. “It can’t be worse than the lair I came from.”

Steve purses his lips. “Not funny, Buck.”

“It’s too easy to rile you up, Stevie.”

Steve stares out at the road and ignores the banter. When he finally finds a spot, he rings Tony.

“We’re here. Gonna head for the back entrance, using my keycard. Turn off security feed in that area in two minutes.” He hangs up, Bucky dips his baseball cap lower and zips up his hoodie. Steve blows out a breath of air and they make their way over.

Bucky stays behind Steve as he swipes his card, instantly unlocking the door. The camera above does not turn the usual green color to indicate live feed. So far so good. They take the stairs because literally anyone can access the elevator. Tony’s lab is on the 42nd floor so they start climbing. 

They’re not even out of breath by the time they arrive at the locked steel door. Steve swipes his card again and the door clicks open. Bucky pauses before going through. Steve’s been here before so he leads, noting the subtle shift in Bucky’s demeanor the closer they get to where they need to be. 

Tony greets them, wearing a very casual ensemble of expensive joggers and a black Hugo Boss tee. He doesn’t even look Steve’s way as they approach. 

“Tony.”

“Hey Steve-O, he says, still not glancing at him. His eyes shamelessly roam up and down Bucky’s body, lighting up like a Christmas tree.

“My, you_ are_ a specimen.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Tony. We talked about this, remember?

Tony grins. “Of course. Where _are _my manners. “I’m Tony, and you must be the famous and infamous Bucky Barnes.” He extends his hand and after a beat, Bucky grabs it with his right hand.

“Thanks for agreeing to see me,” he says in reply. 

“Are you kidding me? I cancelled some very important appointments for today that I’ve had in place for months. This is level one priority. Shall we?” He doesn’t wait for a response, just giddily saunters inside his lab. 

Steve throws Bucky a sympathetic look and they follow inside. Bucky looks around at all the tech, and Steve watches the wary expression on his face. This might not be some freezing lab in the middle of nowhere, but it’s clear it was making him nervous nonetheless. He had promised Bucky that they would leave if he felt uncomfortable for any reason.

Tony is pouring them drinks, right on top of a lab table. He hands an expensive tumbler filled with amber liquid to Steve first, then to Bucky.

“You know this doesn’t affect us, right?” Bucky says, and Tony smiles that impish, sarcastic grin that Steve wants to punch every single time.

“This is from Asgard, boys. Courtesy of the God of Thunder himself.”

Bucky looks confused but Steve tilts his head. “Was Thor here recently?”

“Nah. He brought this a couple of years ago. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion.” He lifts his arm in a toast and takes a sip.” He licks his lips and his voice is hoarse when he expresses: “Holy shit.”

Bucky takes an experimental sip and arches a brow. “It’s like moonshine and gasoline.” Steve follows suit and finds himself impressed. He and Bucky finish off their tumblers in a few seconds while Tony frowns at them, taking a few sips between breaths.

“So,” Tony starts with a clap after getting them settled in the communal area of the lab. “I’m sure you know I have about a gazillion questions.” This he directs at Bucky, earning him a glare from Steve.

“I’ll answer what I can,” Bucky replies with a soft tone. Steve interrupts. “Tony. We came for help, not to get interrogated.”

“Steve, it’s fine,” Bucky interjects. “I get it. Curiosity and all. It’s really ok.”

Steve knows Bucky well enough now to note it wasn’t completely fine, but Bucky is going to do his best. Steve lets it go.

Tony eyes Bucky like he’s a mystery he can’t unwind and gets up from his chair to get closer to him. Steve instantly tenses, but Bucky just watches the other man with a blank expression.

“Can I see it?” Tony asks.

Bucky stands and unzips his hoodie. Then he takes off his shirt and Tony’s eyes widen comically. 

“Holy crap,” he whistles. He bites his lip in concentration, literally walks around Bucky, trying to view the arm from every angle, and finally, hovers his fingers over the limb. 

“May I?”

Steve actually tenses but Bucky just lifts his arm a bit and Tony places his fingers on the metal. And then he wraps his hands around, feeling at the plates, the ridges, everywhere he can. Steve clenches his jaw, not caring for how intimate the exchange looks. Bucky’s face remains impassive the whole time.

“It’s magnificent,” Tony breathes. “How does it open?”

Bucky reaches with his other arm and presses down on the concealed latch, exposing the inner workings. Tony’s eyes are practically glowing. Steve’s never seen him so silent.

“You look like him,” Bucky says quietly, and Tony stills, warily glancing up at Bucky. “Howard. I knew him well.”

Tony swallows slightly and looks back down at the arm, feigning disinterest. “Yeah well, looks are about the only thing I acquired genetically from good old dad. I was a disappointment in just about every other aspect.”

Bucky looks around him. “I don’t know about that.” 

Tony watches Bucky eye everything around him. “He never really got to see me like this, true. But knowing him, I’m sure he’d find something negative to say.” He coughs slightly. “Any who, this looks like it might take a while. Shall we get you a bit more comfortable?”

Bucky follows Tony to a more secluded part of the lab, where a modern leather recliner sits. It’s sleek and impressive, the steel shining off the expensive hardware. And Bucky instantly tenses at it. 

“Tony, I’m not sure this is the best way-”

“It’s fine,” Bucky interjects, and after a beat he sits himself in the chair. Tony watches Steve’s concerned expression and flits back to Bucky’s tense posture. Bucky props his arm on the padded arm of the chair and Tony pulls up a wheeled stool to get more comfortable. Steve hovers nearby. 

Tony puts on some tech-heavy goggles and leans forward to better inspect the inner workings of the bionic arm. He grabs some thin tools from the nearby rolling table and Steve’s body goes rigid. 

“Right. Ok. Rogers, maybe you can go busy yourself somewhere else in the lab. Or preferably on a different floor? The gym? Kitchen? Just, somewhere where you’re not literally hovering over my shoulder. That’d be great.”

“I’m not leaving you alone with him, Tony.”

Tony looks up at him with the comically wide goggles, an indignant expression on his face. “What, pray tell do you think I’m going to do to him? As far as I understand it, this man can disarm and kill my whole security team in a matter of minutes. I’m pretty sure he has nothing to fear from me.”

Steve purses his lips but glances at Bucky for direction. “It’s ok, Steve. I’ll be fine, go ahead.”

Steve doesn’t like it one bit, but he heads for the elevators anyway. He takes Tony’s advice and heads to the gym a couple levels up. He’s too tense for anything else. 

Tony’s gym at the Tower is ten times larger than the one at the lake house. There’s an entire track that runs around the perimeter of the building, with views of the city from every angle. Steve runs a few miles before moving over to the weights and hitting the punching bag a few times.

Grabbing a water from the stocked fridge he takes in the view for a few minutes before his phone chimes. It’s Tony, letting him know it’s safe to head back down.

When he arrives back in the lab, Bucky’s got another drink in hand and he’s flexing the metal one with a satisfied expression. So it went well. 

“Hey, Buck, everything good?”

“Like new,” Bucky says in quiet awe. Tony comes out of nowhere, lifting a glass for Steve to take. More of the Asgardian liquor. He takes a long sip. 

“That was fun. I’m almost sad it’s over with. You wouldn’t be against me maybe scanning the entire arm into my system, would you? I’m dying to know how this ancient tech came to be. One of a kind. A nearly indestructible weapon,” Tony says dreamily.

“His arm’s not a weapon, Tony,” Steve says with a dark expression. Tony scrunches his face.

“Well, it actually is, for all intents and purposes. I get it, he certainly doesn’t want to be starting any more fights any time soon. But when they put it on him, they did it for the long haul.”

Steve is starting to get anxious from this conversation. He eyes Bucky who seems to be ignoring the both of them, or pretending to. Steve finishes off his glass and carefully places it on top of the closest surface. 

“Do you want to see what it can do?” Bucky suddenly asks, and Steve’s eyes go wide. Tony’s mouth parts just a bit, before turning into a gleeful smirk. 

“Come with me,” Tony says and briskly heads towards the elevator. Bucky starts to follow but Steve grabs his arm.

“What the hell, Bucky?”

“Just humor him. He did fix my arm,” Bucky notes before slipping out of Steve’s grip. Steve fumes silently before heading after them. They get in the elevator and Tony punches a code that sends the elevator to a floor Steve’s never been to before.

They exit into a darkened room but it quickly illuminates as soon as they step forward. Steve pauses as he takes in the view around them. It looks like Tony brought them to where he stores his Iron Man suits. They are in various places around the room.

There are full suits, metal body parts strewn about, helmets of various shapes and colors, unfinished armor. It’s certainly a sight and even Bucky looks around in wonder. Tony meanwhile goes further into the room and brings back a suit that looks like less like a prototype and more like the real thing. 

“I got bored with this one last year and upgraded the one I have now. I was keeping it as a backup while I was here, but. I’ve just decided I don’t need it anymore.”

“Tony.”

They both ignore Steve as Tony presses a button on the band on his wrist, and the suit stands erect. Tony carefully pushes it back so it’s more or less standing against the wall. Then he turns to Bucky.

“Do your worst, soldier,” Tony says, stepping back a bit. Steve huffs and crosses his arms.

“Tony, really? This is completely stupid. There are perfectly good punching bags upstairs.”

Bucky walks in front of the suit, looking it over with a curious glint. Then he looks back at Tony, for what, Steve’s not sure. But Tony merely nods with a giddy expression and Bucky cocks his arm back. 

The sound of metal on metal echoes painfully throughout the space. Bucky flexes his fist and looks up at the damage. His arm is ok but the suit took a hit. It isn’t completely crushed though, but there is a sizable dent to the armor, though it never punctured the aluminum alloy. 

“Holy shit.”

Bucky doesn’t ask for permission anymore. He spends a few seconds assessing the various weak points on the armor, pummeling them with his metal fist. It’s a crazy thing to watch. The dents appear all over and Steve watches Tony’s face fall, feeling suddenly pleased. This is what he wanted, so he gets to watch.

Bucky’s not even tired once he steps back, and again he checks his arm to make sure it didn’t sustain any damage. Tony walks right up to his old suit and looks at it in disbelief.

“This suit can go into space. Into deep waters. I’ve been shot with grenade launchers in this suit.” He swiftly turns around and physically grabs Bucky’s arm, turning it over like he’s looking for something. Steve’s about to object but Bucky just throws him a smug smirk.

“I thought it was Vibranium. But even Cap’s shield can’t dent this although I’ve never exactly tested it against its full force. And Vibranium isn’t easy to come by. Nor is-”

His eyes light up and again he’s feeling up Bucky’s arm like its precious gold. “What do you remember from your time with Hydra?”

“Tony. Enough.”

“What’s your question,” Bucky says to him dispassionately.

“Do you remember any upgrades to the arm after the initial procedure to attach it? Was it ever modified?”

Bucky’s eyes are faraway. “Once. I think it was the 70’s, maybe. And my memory is not fantastic. I think they re-coated it with something. I’m not sure. I wasn’t allowed to question anything.”

Tony’s eyes flicker up to Bucky’s for a minute, before releasing his arm. “I think we’re working with two metals here. If I had to guess, it’s Vibranium with an Adamantium layer over it. It’s...extraordinary. How they acquired, not one but both of the rarest metals on earth is…mind boggling.”

Bucky shrugs like he couldn’t care less. “It is what it is. Not like I had a choice in the matter.”

Tony frowns, but it’s gone quickly as he doesn’t ever like to dwell on unpleasant things. “I’m sure you have quite a fascinating tale to tell,” he finally says, more subdued than Steve gave him credit for. 

“We should go, Buck.”

“Going so soon? Can I tempt you to a late lunch? Finest chef in New York.” This is directed at Bucky and Steve mentally groans because he pretty much already knows what he’s going to say.

“Lunch sounds good.”

Tony grins, claps his hands in delight. “Ok! Let’s head upstairs, then. What are you in the mood for? You’re not a vegan, are you?” When Bucky stares at him in confusion, Tony waves him off. “Of course you wouldn’t know, never mind. It’s unimportant anyway, meat is so much better.” He continues to jabber away while Bucky and Steve follow behind, Steve annoyed, and Bucky more curious by the second.

***

Lunch is casual but the food is not and Steve can’t even guess what’s on his plate. Bucky looks dubious as well until Tony takes the first bite and moans. Bucky digs in after that, clearly impressed. Tony wipes his mouth with a napkin.

“My private chef is from France. It’s best not to question what’s actually in the food, just enjoy the experience.”

Steve rolls his eyes and takes another bite. It’s not bad, but he’s a simple guy with simple tastes. Pizza is just fine, thanks very much. 

“How’d you find the lake house? Comfortable enough? Had enough to eat?”

“It was very nice,” Bucky says earnestly. “I enjoyed the gym and the pool. And the privacy.”

Tony sighs. “I wish I was there more often. But. Duty and all.”

“You know you do this to yourself, Tony,” Steve reminds him. “You’re a workaholic. You can actually take the day off for once. The world is not always in danger.”

Tony scoffs at that. “Day off? What would I do? Besides, from what I hear, my old man wasn’t one for twiddling his thumbs.”

“No, Howard was always tinkering with something, true. But he also knew how to enjoy life,” Steve muses. Tony glances at Bucky.

“Is it true you knew him well? During the war.”

Bucky stiffens, his face going dark. “I think so. My memories are still not all there. There are...gaps. Large ones. But I vaguely remember spending time with him, before Steve arrived.”

“Then I’m sure you’ve heard that he passed away in a car accident, along with my mother?”

Steve doesn’t breathe, though his eyes find Bucky’s but he’s too good at espionage for Tony to pick up on anything. He lowers his head in remorse. “I did. I was very sorry to hear. It seems, the more I remember, the more I lose again.”

“Yes. About that. I read up on what naughty things Hydra was up to. Mostly pertaining to you. So any plans for revenge?”

“Seriously? Tony, what the hell?”

Tony puts his hands up like he has no idea why Steve is pissed. “I’m just saying. Your BFF was brainwashed and frozen for seventy years and you aren’t making plans to blow Hydra from the face of the earth yet?”

Bucky sighs, loudly. “I’m really not interested in fighting right now. Trying to get away from all that.”

Tony looks baffled, and slightly suspicious. “Well. That’s um, fascinating and all, but we all know Hydra has to go down. We now have some leads, thanks to Romanov airing everyone’s dirty laundry all over the internet. Locations, bases, names.” He looks at Steve. “We are Avengers, after all. Shouldn’t we be out there… avenging?”

Steve looks at him darkly. “Hydra can wait. Without Bucky they’re toast. They’ve scattered and one day they will all pay. But right now, Bucky getting better is my first priority.”

Tony raises a brow. “I get it. Sorta. Just kinda surprised Terminator over there doesn’t want to eviscerate the assholes that did this to him. For seventy years.”

Bucky shifts in his seat. “I’ve done enough damage. I’m done with fighting. With killing.”

Tony hmpfs and takes a swig of wine. “Point taken, Robocop. It’s your life.”

They finish lunch on a quiet note and make their way out. Tony shakes Bucky’s hand before leaving. “Anything else you need, come see me. And any time you want me to take a look at the gorgeous arm of yours, give me a ring,” he winks.

“Thanks again,” Bucky says. “And, sorry about the seat belt in your car.”

Tony frowns for a second. “Oh! Right. No worries. I’m sure you’ve noticed I can afford others,” he grins and Steve nearly pushes Bucky out the door. 

It’s not until they’re back in the car that Steve turns to glare at Bucky. “Really? It was supposed to be a quick in and out. No lunch and certainly no destroying Iron Man suits!”

Bucky looks down at his metal hand and flexes it into a fist. “He fixed it like he knew what he was doing. It took him minutes to figure out the issue. I sort of felt obligated. Plus, I wanted to see if he was anything like his dad.”

Steve sighs. “He’s much worse.” Bucky cracks a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t be mad, Steve. I found myself unable to say no to him. Not after…”

Steve squeezes Bucky’s thigh. “Hey. I’m not mad. I just didn’t want _this _to happen,” he says, indicating Bucky’s somber mood. The other man eyes him bleakly. “It was gonna happen anyway.”

Steve starts the car. One step forward, five steps back.


	14. Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had some extra time today to do some editing so I was able to post this chapter early! One more to go!

Sam is reading the paper when they arrive home, but he gets up, almost eager to ask about Bucky’s arm.

“Good as new,” Bucky quips and plasters a smile that doesn’t fool Steve on his face. Sam nods, impressed, though. After, Bucky excuses himself and shuts himself inside Steve’s room. Steve watches him retreat with dark eyes.

“So that went well, I gather,” Sam says. Steve shrugs. “I guess. Sorry we were out so long. Tony was in a chipper mood and there’s no denying him anything when he gets like that.”

“All good, Cap. You up for a walk?”

Steve smiles. “Yeah, I think I can handle that.” He pops his head into the bedroom to let Bucky know he’s heading out. Bucky lifts his head from a book he’s been reading lately and nods in Steve’s direction. 

He grabs his keys and follows Sam out. He realizes how utterly stressed he feels as soon as he’s outside. The car ride back was mostly quiet and tense, with Steve silently seething. He’s not even sure why. He is beyond grateful to Tony for his help, but sometimes he wants to just punch him. And he’s fairly certain Bucky’s dark mood was in direct correlation to the visit.

Steve knows that Bucky meeting Howard’s son isn’t exactly therapy, but Bucky insisted and Steve wasn’t going to push it. He’s just not sure it accomplished much for Bucky’s frame of mind. In fact, Steve thinks the visit only opened up old wounds for Bucky. Horrific memories he’d rather banish forever. 

And now the wound was gaping and festering, and Steve hates the thought of Bucky suffering through it all over again. Steve meant what he said to Bucky. He will never reveal to Tony what he knows about his parents. It’s not his story to tell. He should feel guilty about it. Tony is after all, his friend. But it doesn’t compare with the fierce possessiveness he feels whenever he thinks about Bucky. Bucky is a victim, first and foremost. 

“You ok, Cap?” Sam asks him as they walk, and it’s only then that Steve realizes he’s walking much too quickly and Sam is literally playing catch up. He silently curses.

“Yeah, sorry, Sam. Just, Bucky meeting Tony, it was just a bit too much, I think.” Suddenly, horribly, Steve wants to tell Sam about Tony’s parents. He knows he shouldn’t and he knows it’s a betrayal of Bucky’s trust, be he feels a desperate need to burden someone else with the knowledge. In the end, caution wins.

“Bucky was good friends with Tony’s dad so I think it was just a bit too much, all at once for him. But either way, at least his arm is fixed.”

“That’s good. But maybe seeing Tony unlocked some more memories for him. Maybe it was more helpful than you think.” Steve doesn’t say anything to that. They end up stopping at a cafe just so they aren’t aimlessly walking around.

They sit for a while, sipping their coffee, watching the various people pass them by. Stifling a sigh, Steve glances at Sam.

“Listen, if I had to go away for a while, like, off the grid, would you mind keeping it quiet for a while?”

Sam looks at him warily. “What exactly does that mean? And I’m assuming by you, you mean yourself and Barnes?”

Steve sighs. “Bucky’s not ready to return to public life, and I get it. He’s still a fugitive and he’s literally got a bounty on his head. So until things get squared away- and that might take a while- I kinda wanna get away from everything and everyone. I had a lot of time to think about this. This… Captain America gig, it doesn’t mean the same as it used to. Look at what happened in DC. I don’t exactly feel trusting at the moment. I’m still angry. I’m fucking furious about Hydra and what they did. And I can’t forget what they did to Bucky. So I’m thinking about taking a break for a while. Skipping town.”

Sam sighs after a beat. “Look, I get it, Cap. If anyone deserves a break, it’s you. I can’t imagine discovering what you did about Shield and Hydra, and finding out Barnes was alive this whole time. I’m not even sure how you’re still sane. But. If you’re gonna do this, I want you to do this for the right reasons. And going on the run with a known fugitive puts you at risk.”

Steve sits back in his chair, toys with the rim of his mug. “Not many people know what it was really like. When I was younger. They know I was small, and sickly. They know I wasn’t allowed to get drafted. They know about how Bucky and I were friends. Inseparable. But they don’t know the half of it. Like how I nearly died, a few times, and Bucky was by my side the whole time, holding my hand, wiping my feverish head. Threatening to kill me if I died. How his parents would give my mom money for medicine when we couldn’t afford it. 

“They don’t know that he buttered up the teachers for me, so I wouldn’t get bad marks for missing so much school. Or how hard he tried to get a girl to even talk to me. Or how after my mom died, he refused to take no for an answer and badgered me until I agreed to move in with him. How he begged store owners to give me a job, any job. They don’t know that Bucky forced me to go on double dates with him, and even though I knew it would be awful and a waste of time, the night always ended with just the two of us, stumbling home drunk together, girls forgotten.

“People don’t know that during the war, Bucky saved my life countless times, almost always from afar. He shot enemies down when I never even saw them. Even though it was my name that was on everyone’s lips. Bucky was always there, in the background, helping me out every single inch of the way. Hellhole after hellhole. He might not remember any of that. But I do. Like it was yesterday. When I lost Bucky on the train that day, I lost every part of me that was good, and decent. If it wasn’t for Peggy I’d have died a reckless death. I had nothing without Bucky. I was nothing without him. And now. Bucky has no one and nothing. Just me.”

Sam takes a shaky breath and Steve can’t meet his eyes for a minute. “And Barnes agreed to this idea of yours? To just... disappear?”

Steve finishes his coffee, carefully setting it back down. “It… surprised him at first. And we haven’t talked about it much at all. But I have the resources and he knows how to disappear. It wouldn’t be forever.”

Sam gives him a lopsided smirk. “Will you at least tell me where you’re going?”

“Why do you think I’m telling you all of this, Sam?” 

Sam nods, his smile growing wider.

***

Sam leaves Steve afterwards to visit a friend and Steve walks back home, drained, but optimistic. He sets his keys on the counter and finds the place empty. Heaving a weary sigh he makes his way to the bedroom. He can already make out Bucky’s shape on the balcony, puffing away on a cigarette. 

He casually walks over and slumps down in a chair. Bucky throws him a tiny smile, and that small effort stills Steve’s heart. He follows suit and reaches out with his hand in a _give me_ motion. Bucky blinks and hands him his cigarette. Steve takes a puff, not choking like he did last time and exhales it slowly. It really is filthy stuff. He hands it back.

They sit in comfortable silence for a while, Bucky not asking where Sam went and Steve not inquiring as to what Bucky did while they were gone. It could be any day, could be any couple. Steve watches Bucky smoke, his heart clenching, his mind turning. 

“I want to go away,” he says finally. Bucky looks up at him. “So you’ve said.”

Steve leans forward in his chair. “I want us to go away. Somewhere. Anywhere. I don’t even care if you pick where. I want to keep you safe, and I want to keep you near me. I don’t care how selfish that sounds. I’m way past that, and you know it. I can keep us comfortable, and safe, and as far away from the public as you like. Just say the word, Buck.”

Bucky finishes his smoke and flicks it in the ashtray on the floor. “And you’re really fine with that? Up and leaving your whole life? Your friends, your work? Everything.”

“This isn’t a rash decision, Buck.” He gets off the chair and drops to his knees on the floor. Eyes on Bucky, he grabs both his hands, clasping them like he never wants to let them go.

“Haven’t you been listening, Bucky? ‘Til the end of the line. Just you and me. Fuck everything else. They lied to us- both of us. They lied and murdered and destroyed everything. So fuck them. Let’s see how well they get on without Captain America.” His tone is bitter but pleading. Bucky doesn’t attempt to detach himself from Steve. He licks his lips, and Steve watches, enraptured, waiting.

“It’s your money, Steve. You pick the place. I’ll follow.”

His eyes shut in elation, and he surges forward, moving his hands to Bucky’s face, before leaning forward and capturing Bucky’s lips in a kiss that speaks volumes. He rests his forehead against Bucky’s, eyes shut against the world.

“I’ll take us wherever you wanna go, Buck. Even if it’s another part of the world, I’ll make it happen.”

***

They settle on Canada, simply for how remote parts are. Steve does some cabin searches and finds some gorgeous spots in Manitoba. Truthfully he’s not overly fond of how cold it can get, and jokingly mentions it to Bucky.

“I’m not either, to be honest. But as long as I got a roaring fire and some blankets, I’m good.” He throws Steve a wide grin and once again he’s struck by how impossible the moment seems. Not even two years ago Steve thought Bucky dead and gone. He still can’t fully come to terms with it. But he refuses to question his fortune. He returns the grin, truly happy for the first time in years. 

Sam sits on the couch, every now and then throwing out a price tag and location of some remote lake-side cottage. Bucky shrugs every time. 

“I told you, Steve’s footing the bill, so I will go anywhere he wants.”

“Sam, send me any good ones you find. Remember, the more remote the better, but it still needs to have access to markets and such. I’m not driving two hours for bread,” he quips. Bucky is at the table, cleaning his Glock. Steve barely blinks at that anymore. He remembers the days of war, and how it became almost second nature to tend to their weapons. Bucky doesn’t help in the house search, letting Steve and Sam take control.

After a few hours they’ve narrowed their search to three properties. They are basically as far north as you can get in Manitoba, on Nueltin Lake. Super remote, villages sprinkled within a reasonable distance, and the fishing is supposed to be spectacular. The cabins are all spacious, but not overly so, featuring full views of the lake, and the forests around them. 

Bucky takes a quick glance at the photos nodding in approval. “Pick one, Buck,” Steve says, and for once Bucky doesn’t argue. Steve sets the laptop in front of him and goes to make dinner with Sam. Ten minutes later Bucky points to the screen.

“This one.”

Wiping his hands clean, Steve comes over to take a look. “Hmm. It’s the smallest one, you know. I think it only has 2 bedrooms.”

But Bucky just smiles. “It’s perfect.”

Indeed it is. Though not as roomy as the other choices, or even a quarter of the size of Tony’s cabin, it’s spacious enough for their needs, and it has a gigantic stone fireplace in the living room and master bedroom. No neighbors, save for the random elk or moose. It even has a dock for a small fishing boat. Steve’s heart flutters excitedly.

“You’re right, it is perfect. We’ll call the agent tomorrow.”

They eat dinner shortly after, and Steve’s heart could not be more full. 

***

Sam decides to stay a few extra days, to help Steve and Bucky with their impending move. Sam even speaks with the selling agent, so that nothing can be traced back to Steve. It would be an all cash purchase, and Bucky helps out with aliases and such. Sometimes it was nice to have a spy as your partner. 

Steve can tell Bucky’s excitement was growing the more they spoke of it. Usually reserved and stoic, Bucky seemed to come out of his shell every time he clicked on the photos of the house, even though he’s seen them hundreds of times by now. He points at the screen as he indicates what he would like to change about a certain space. The wonder in his voice speaks volumes to Steve.

He can understand how something doesn’t seem real, doesn’t feel real, not until it actually happens. Maybe Bucky thinks this is all just a dream, too good to be true. Maybe he thinks Steve wouldn’t want to go through with it, in the end. But as the days drag on, Steve can see Bucky’s anticipation.

Steve, too, can barely contain himself. They still have much to plan. They have to figure out a way to get into Canada without being seen, they need to figure out transportation and simple things, like what to pack. He has enough money to buy anything they could possible need out there, but he still wants to bring his clothes and such. 

When they hear back from the agent that the seller has accepted their offer, Sam takes Steve shopping. Steve protests, generally not a fan of going out to buy things. But Sam insists, and it’s more to do with the fact that Steve can’t sit still any longer upon hearing the news, than the actual need to acquire new things.

“Cap, you’re gonna need some warmer things. Fall’s about here and fall up there is pretty much winter, so we gotta get you and Barnes some new duds. I’m pretty sure he didn’t have any packed inside his backpack.” Bucky rolls his eyes but practically shoves Steve out the door. 

***

The air is crisp, the sun bright and shining, red and golden leaves sprinkling the sidewalks as Steve and Sam make their way back to his Brownstone. They each have a handful of bags between them, Steve going a bit overboard at the store. Even though this was Sam’s idea, he doesn’t seem overly thrilled to be carrying all the shopping. But it’s the weekend and the spots are all taken and so they have to walk a couple blocks. Steve doesn’t mind. Sunglasses and baseball cap on, he’s happy to be unrecognized among the throngs of people around them.

They’re chatting about nothing, or at least nothing important, though Steve’s memory is a bit cloudy. And it’s just before they round the corner to Steve’s street that they hear and feel it. The loud, unmistakable bang and the ground rumbling underneath them. Then screams.

Steve’s meters ahead of Sam before he even realizes his feet have taken off, his fingers slipping off the handles of the bags. There’s smoke and debris and his heart stops the moment he sees his Brownstone engulfed in flames. Or at least what’s left of it. The entire top half is missing, exploded into a million pieces, littered all over the street.

Mind going blank and hazy, he suddenly feels Sam’s hands on his arm and his muffled voice screaming into Steve’s ear. There are people all around, stunned, injured. He’s not sure what Sam is saying but his feet somehow carry him closer to what’s left of his home. He thinks he hears sirens in the distance. 

His breath hitches as the severity of the situation finally catches up to him. _Bucky. _He runs. The people are a blur, the concrete and bricks around him he dodges without even looking down. His eyes are on the smoke and fire seeping from the remains of the building. He’s almost at the door when he hears Sam.

“Steve, wait! You can’t go in there, the whole top floor is gone!”

He ignores him. The door is missing, blasted off its hinges and there is black, cloudy smoke as far as his superior vision can see. He starts to cough almost immediately.

“Sam, get back, get out of here!” But Sam grabs hold of his elbow and doesn’t let go.

“Cap, no! You can’t go in there. It’s all gone. The rest of the place is about to collapse. We can’t be here.”

“Bucky was in there! Let me go!”

Sam doesn’t budge, but it doesn’t matter anyway. Steve can feel the heat, the wall of fire that’s there just beyond the thick smoke. There is no way up. His eyes tear up from the smoke and ash and belatedly he realizes Sam is trying to yank him away from the doorway. He stumbles backwards against him, his mind reeling.

“Bucky’s in there,” he mutters as his eyes go upwards to the giant hole in the building. The whole floor was gone. The sirens are louder now, hundreds of them. People too, gathered all around, staring in horror at the sight. The brownstone next door is missing chunks as well. 

Sam guides him away from the building as the firefighters eventually race towards it. Steve feels dizzy and disoriented, like he’s not even sure what he’s looking at. His eyes grab onto the smoke curling towards the sunny sky. Then they fruitlessly search the crowd, looking for that familiar glint of metal. His head hurts. 

Sam’s on the phone. Steve doesn’t know who with. His eyes are burning. The pulse in his head is throbbing relentlessly, cancelling out the hum of the crowd. A stretcher wizzes by with an injured man, blood all over. It’s not Bucky. Bucky was inside. Inside. 

A soft groan escapes his lips and he suddenly feels ill. There’s pressure on his arm and it’s Sam. He’s off the phone and is trying to steady Steve. He swallows but the taste of bile won’t go away.

“Bucky was inside,” he whispers hoarsely and shuts his eyes.

“I know, Cap.” Sam squeezes his arm. He doesn’t offer anything further. What can he possibly say? They both have eyes. 

News crews have arrived and Sam throws his hood over his head. Steve doesn’t bother or doesn’t notice. Either way, his hair and beard are so outgrown now no one would even recognize him anyway. He sits on the sidewalk, eyes never leaving the building.

Twenty minutes later, Tony shows up, appearing out of nowhere in the crowd. He’s in jeans and a large sweatshirt, baseball cap on his head. It’s such an odd look for him even Steve blinks in confusion. That’s who Sam was probably talking to, Steve muses. He doesn’t greet Tony, just continues his silent vigil. He hears Tony speaking to Sam, though.

“Barnes was inside the house.”

“Yep, already on it. Got my drones circling the perimeter for movement and heat signatures. They’re also recording everything.”

Steve zones them out, watching the sky get darker and darker. Tony taps his shoulder. “Hey, chin up, Steve. This is the Winter Soldier we’re talking about. You think a bomb is gonna stop someone like that?”

Steve shuts his eyes to prevent himself from punching Tony. He knows what he’s trying to do but he’s in no mood for levity. Sam and Tony converse some more and some of the crowd disperses. The fire, for the most part, has been kept under control, and Steve can now see more of the hulk of mass that his home once was.

Pre-wartime bricks lay scattered across the street and sidewalk, black with soot, some crumbling like dust. Steve idly thinks of his downstairs neighbor, whom he’s never met. Was he inside at the time? He knows he should be assisting, helping out in some way. But he’s too numb with shock.

Also, selfishly, he doesn’t want to be recognized right now. Doesn’t want anyone questioning if there was anyone else inside the house. Sooner or later he’s going to have to come forward as the owner. He rubs his face, his fingers grazing the coarse hair of his forming beard. His eyes feel raw and itchy.

Sam suddenly sits down beside him on the sidewalk, watching the firefighters do their thing. The police already have the perimeter surrounded, bomb dogs sniffing around. Tape has been put up and the crowds, bored of the inaction, have dwindled further. 

“Tony hasn’t picked up anything with the drones,” Sam says softly, and Steve doesn’t respond because there’s nothing to say. “They’re gonna start looking for the owner soon,” Sam adds. Steve sighs, nodding wearily.

A few minutes later they’re standing in front of the fire chief and a cop. Sam does most of the talking. They recognize Steve but luckily don’t react in anything but a professional manner. The chief sighs as he glances back at the smoking building.

“Was there anyone else inside at the time?”

Steve shakes his head. “No.” It sounds like bullshit to his own ears but the two men just nod, clasping him on the shoulder. The fire is pretty much out by the time night has fallen, the street lamps illuminating the damage. 

Steve didn’t have many things in his new life, certainly not many possessions. But he was proud to own his own home. Something of his that he could never own before. A piece of history. And right now a complete ruin. Charred, disintegrated, destroyed. 

Someone is talking to him. He looks to his side and sees Tony. “What?” He doesn’t even know if he was asked a question.

“I said we should get out of here. Come back to the Tower. Jarvis noticed some bomb fragments from the drone footage. We can look into it further there.”

Steve grits his teeth, the confirmation of sabotage just making it ten times worse. “No. I have to stay here. In case…” 

Tony glances at Sam and they walk away from Steve to talk some more. If Steve really wants to eavesdrop he’s perfectly capable of it, but his focus is solely on the ruin in front of him. The breeze is chilly and it blows the smoke and ash near Steve, the smell unpleasant and grating. He doesn’t move from the sidewalk, keeping vigil for a ghost.

Eventually Sam sits down next to him and he’s holding bags in his hand. Steve frowns. “It’s the stuff we bought. By some miracle it was all there where we dropped it. Steve nods but doesn’t really care. But there’s a reason Sam is telling him this. He hands Steve a warm zip up that they had bought. Steve’s in only a tee and the temperature is dropping. Still, he finds he can’t quite move to take the offered warmth. Sam sighs.

“Tony left a while ago. Says he’s gonna analyze the data. Whatever that means. But Cap, you really should head over there. You can’t sit out here all night.”

“You go ahead, Sam, I’m not leaving just yet,” he says in a dead tone. Sam stays quiet but doesn’t budge from his spot. He puts the zip up on, and idly, Steve finds a small comfort in that. He’s silently glad his friend is choosing to stay, because Steve is going to break if left alone. 

It’s 1 a.m. and Steve is numb, though it’s nothing to do with the cold. It’s not even that bad. Not with the serum in his veins. Not with what Bucky had to endure in Cryo. It’s not bad at all. He’ll wait all night if he has to. 

A stray cat passes nearby, heading towards the alleyway between Steve’s brownstone. He watches it skulk away and then hears a nasty hiss. The cat runs back from where it came. Steve’s eyes dart to the dark alley. And then he hears the shuffling. Through the vague noises of the city, and the traffic from the streets nearby, he hears it.

He gets to his feet, not making a move. He focuses on the sound, on the blurry darkness until he spots a shape. Sam gets up too, now. It doesn’t take long. The figure emerges, and the shape is unmistakable now. 

Steve’s heart stills as his feet leave the sidewalk. Bucky is limping and bloodied and covered in soot, but it’s still Bucky. Alive. Steve stops a couple feet away, not wanting to startle the other man. 

“Bucky,” he breathes and dark, vicious eyes glance back at him. The anger is not directed at him and so Steve takes the last few steps and throws himself at Bucky. He grabs onto ruined clothing, breathes in the terrible smell of fire and ash and burnt flesh, but doesn’t let go. Bucky doesn’t hug back.

Steve somehow finds the strength to pull himself away and Sam is right there. He grips Bucky by his upper arms and takes a good look at him.

His face is bruised and scratched up and one of his eyes is almost swollen shut. The shirt he’s wearing has more holes than fabric and blood has seeped through most of them. His flesh arm has some gashes and tiny metal particles stuck throughout the flesh. It’s only then Steve notices Bucky’s holding onto something with his metal arm.

Seeing Steve’s confused expression, Bucky holds up what looks like a busted-up piece of metal. “Piece of the bomb. I found it after I came to.” His voice is hoarse and dark, the smoke clearly settling into his lungs. Steve’s not concerned with any of it. He can actually tell Bucky’s in no physical danger, the wounds already slowly healing. Even the limp will right itself. No, it’s the wild, faraway look in his eyes that has Steve concerned. 

“You up for getting the hell out of here, Barnes?” Sam asks him and Bucky stares at him blankly for a moment, like he’s not sure who he even is. Then he slowly nods, once, and Sam grabs what’s in Bucky’s hand and Steve assists Bucky around the block to the car. Once again Sam makes a stop for all their purchases.

Bucky doesn’t make a sound the whole way to Tony’s. Doesn’t even ask where they’re going. Steve’s hands don’t stop shaking and his jaw clenches painfully the whole time. When they get to the Tower they take the back way in again, but this time they take the elevator because Steve only now realizes Bucky’s shin bone is protruding from his flesh and they’re not climbing all that way. 

Tony’s already at the door, waiting. He takes one long look at Bucky and says, “JARVIS.”

“On it, sir.”

They steer Bucky over to the med bay and situate him on one of the beds. Bucky doesn’t protest, which is worrying. Steve purses his lips but just makes sure Bucky is as comfortable as possible. He thought a medic would be called in but what arrives is an AI who scans Bucky from top to bottom and proceeds to work on him. Steve looks at Tony in question. 

“Don’t worry, Cap. She’s one of the best. I’ve implemented some of JARVIS’s medical knowledge into her a couple of years ago. Plus, I’m sure discretion is kinda important to you both right now. Steve nods airily, his eyes on Bucky’s rigid form.

Bucky doesn’t make a sound as the AI sets his bone in place, using a laser to seal the flesh. She wraps the wound up and administers a shot of what Steve assumes is antibiotics. Then she checks his vitals one last time and wheels away. 

Sam comes up to him with two bottles of water. Steve thanks him and they both walk over to the bed. Sam grabs a chair and Steve approaches the bed, laying a hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

“You ok, Buck?”

“I’m fine.” 

Steve glances at Sam and allows himself to take a seat by the foot of the bed. Tony walks over, wiping his hands of grease or something. Always working on one thing or another.

“Can I take a look at that arm of yours, make sure it’s not fritzing out or anything?”

Wordlessly, Bucky extends his bionic arm and Tony goes over to take a closer look. Steve unscrews the other bottle of water and hands it to Bucky, who drinks it down in about five seconds.

Because the thought still physically pains him, it’s Tony that asks the question that’s been on his mind all day.

“So how’d you survive the bomb blast?”

Bucky’s eyes are dark as he stares straight ahead at nothing. “I was on the balcony, smoking. It would have been different had I been inside. I crashed into the building behind us and when I came to I was surrounded by debris and that’s when I noticed the bomb part. I grabbed it and got away from the scene. I hid out about a mile from the house, recovering. I didn’t know if Hydra was still in the area so I kept away until dark.”

Steve hangs his head, feels a dull throbbing behind his eyes. He wants to touch Bucky, every square inch of him, to make sure he’s ok. Logically, he knows he’s fine. He’s alive and already healing. But mentally, Steve wants to affix himself to Bucky and never let go. He wants to feel his heartbeat fluttering beneath his chest as he rests his head there. He wants to attach himself like a parasite, burrowing deep inside Bucky.

He wants to destroy Hydra, once and for all. 

“Jeez, well, so much for all the fools who think smoking kills,” Tony quips and surprisingly, it elicits the smallest of smirks from Bucky. Steve doesn’t have the heart to rebuke Tony.

“Well, everything seems to be functioning just fine. Medically the serum’s doing most of the work. Obviously your shin might take a couple of days to fully heal. But other than that, I’d say you need to go take a hot shower and get some proper rest.” He glances at Steve.

“You uh, wanna take him up to your suite or shall I have one of the other rooms prepared?”

Steve stands. “Mine is fine. Buck?” 

Bucky shrugs, indifferent. “I kinda figured Steve wouldn’t want me out of his sight after today.” Steve feels a tug on his lips even as his heart aches unbearably. Tearing his eyes away from Bucky, he nods his head towards Sam.

“He was staying with us, you might wanna prepare a room for him.”

“You got it. Come on Bird Man, I got just the room- 80” TV, marble soaking tub, a few new pieces of clothing, since yours got disintegrated.” Sam shakes his head but follows Tony out. Steve turns back to Bucky, finally alone. 

He moves closer to the bed and nearly collapses against the side. He grabs Bucky’s arm, hard, his forehead leaning over to rest on his chest. He feels a cool hand threading through his hair.

“I’m ok, Steve,” he hears the whisper and he clenches his eyes tight. “I thought you were dead. I thought… it was like before. When I lost you. I was so close and I lost you. And now again.” His chest aches and his throat constricts against the words. He feels the wetness underneath his lids. “I can’t, Bucky. I can’t go through that again. Not ever.”

He feels fingers reaching for his cheek, his chin, beckoning. He lifts his head up, opening his eyes. The wetness spills over, landing on their clasped hands. Bucky swipes the tears away, his thumb gritty and coarse against his face.

“I’m here, Steve. I’m fine. I’m right here.”

It’s hard to focus with the blurriness but Steve blinks the tears away, refuses to fall apart, not when Bucky is the one who was nearly blown up today. He presses a kiss to Bucky’s forehead.

“Come on, let’s get out of here. Get you washed up and rested.” He helps Bucky out of the bed although he’s fairly certain Bucky’s humoring him. If he can walk a mile back to Steve’s with a mangled shin bone, he can certainly walk the few meters to the elevator unaided. But he says nothing, not letting go of Steve’s arm. Steve is grateful regardless.

***

They lie in bed, neither of them attempting to sleep, though Steve is bone-crushingly tired. After the adrenaline of finding Bucky alive wore off, his whole body was begging for rest, but at the moment, it would not come.

Bucky is facing away from him, towards the wall, and the giant bed feels all the more lonely. He knows he should give Bucky some space, some time, but he’s too worked up to let it go.

“Bucky,” he whispers, as if raising his voice will startle the other man. He hears the soft sigh.

“Yeah, Steve.”

He suddenly doesn’t know what he wants to even ask him. Everything in his head sounds foolish and obvious. But he can tell Bucky is upset, and he has a feeling it has nothing to do with him almost dying. He licks his dry lips.

“I’m sorry this happened to you. After everything you’ve already been through. I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

There’s a long pause and then Bucky turns over to face Steve. His eyes are bright in the dark of the room, and incredulous.

“Sorry? Why are you sorry? I was the one who attracted Hydra to you. It was your home they blew up. _Your_. _Home_.”

Holy shit. This is what he was upset about? Steve raises himself on his elbow. “Bucky, I don’t care about the house. Are you kidding me right now? You almost died.”

“You worked so hard for that house, Steve. It was your home. They took that away from you.”

“Bucky, they almost took you away from me. Again. I don’t give a shit about anything else. I can buy us a hundred homes, Buck. I can do anything I want. And right now, I want to find the people that did this.”

Bucky looks away, jaw clenched. “I do, too. You could have been in that house. Sam could have…” He trails off, his frown deepening. Steve places his hand on Bucky’s chest. Feels the heart pounding angrily behind muscle and bone. 

“And I think about that too. And... I understand if you want nothing to do with fighting anymore, Bucky. I completely understand. But I don’t think I can let this go. Not anymore. I want to hunt them all down, once and for all. And I know there are people who will be glad to help out. Sam. Tony. Nat, if I tell her what’s going on.”

Bucky meets Steve’s eyes and for a second his brain implodes with the knowledge that he could have lost him today. Bucky’s hand scrambles for Steve’s covering his chest, he squeezes and Steve takes a deep breath.

“I can’t let this go, either,” Bucky announces. “I just wanted some time. To find out who I was. To not be seen as a weapon. Instead I got you. Which is a thousand times better. I want them all to pay. They made me. Now they’ll see what their weapon can do.”

The smooth, flat tone should have worried Steve. But he can’t blame Bucky for wanting vengeance. And Steve isn’t about to stand in his way. No. Steve’s mind is already envisioning all the ways they would bring Hydra down for good. 

Steve just had one last question for Bucky. “It’s completely up to you, but if you still want to move to Canada, I’m in. Everything’s been taken care of.”

Bucky smiles at him for the first time today. “Hell yes we’re still going. Plus. We’re a bit homeless at the moment if you haven’t noticed. And. We can make all our plans from our new home.”

Steve’s heart unclenches. He leans in and brushes his lips against Bucky’s. Despite his injuries, Bucky’s insatiable and the kiss deepens and evolves until the air is filled with sighs and moans. When it’s all over and Steve’s body shudders with release, he grabs onto Bucky like a lifeline, knowing there’s nothing on the planet that would tear them apart again.


	15. Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The end of the line..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My goal was to have this completed and up by the New Year. By some miracle, I was able to do that. Hope everyone enjoyed the fic and I'm so appreciative of all the comments and kudos I've received! It's super motivating!

Steve watches Bucky quietly, somberly. Nursing a cooling cup of coffee, he absentmindedly takes a sip while observing his friend and lover conversing with Tony over a pile of old blueprints and records. He stifles the sigh and takes in the surreal scene.

It’s been two months since Steve and Bucky stole across the border, like ghosts, leaving nothing behind in their wake. It took two days of hard traveling before they set eyes on their new life. The cabin looked even more beautiful in person, surrounded by views from every angle. 

Bucky took it all in, eyes roaming, ever cautious. He walked through every room, fingers trailing over wooden banisters and cracked windowsills. An almost serene calm had settled over his features that day, and it warmed Steve’s heart, knowing Bucky finally had a place of his own. It was the last time he saw him look as peaceful.

They had little to unpack and all the furniture remained as part of the buyer’s agreement. That night Bucky made love to Steve on a bed that was not their own, but it didn’t matter. Bruises faded and leg healed up, Bucky pressed Steve deep into the mattress and didn’t let go until they were both sated and exhausted. They didn’t say a word as they fell asleep, bodies still warm with exertion. When Steve woke up Bucky was gone.

He found him outside, talking on the phone. The air was already crisp by then, Steve zipping up his hoodie before stepping outdoors. It was Tony on the phone, and plans were already underway. Steve pursed his lips but didn’t say anything. He left Bucky to figure things out and went to explore the kitchen. Cooking always helped clear his mind.

Now, two months later and their living room looked like something out of a war room. Guns littered the available surfaces, grenades innocuously sat upon end tables and parts of the Iron Man suit was strewn about the place, like it always lived there. Steve eyes the untouched mugs by Bucky and Tony sadly and finishes his own cold brew.

_It’s what you wanted_, he says like a mantra in his head. Vengeance. Revenge. Justice. All for Bucky. For betraying the trust of the American people. For Shield. For Peggy, even. Hydra needs to go down. It’s all true. And yet every second Bucky spends on this grand scheme, with Tony gleefully assisting, only puts Steve in an uneasy mood.

Bucky’s found a new purpose now, his mind completely set. He knows who he is and for the most part, who he was, and now he’s determined to finish this once and for all. Steve wants that, too. He wants to be rid of the stain on their past. He needs it gone. But he also misses Bucky.

There’s a strange bitterness to Bucky’s movements now. He’s more closed off. More...distant. He still kisses Steve with a desperate passion and holds him when his thoughts get to be too much. But Steve notices the change all the same. He just wants this over and done with so he can start living his new life with the man he loves.

There’s a moose outside near the tree line, curiously sniffing around and Steve smiles in wonder. He almost interrupts to tell Bucky but last second he changes his mind, not wanting to interject, and the moose disappears into the woods. He sighs wistfully. Bucky would have loved to see that. Stifling his disappointment, he joins Bucky and Tony and talks strategy, yet again.

***

Tony filters in and out, literally flying back and forth from New York with his Iron Man suit. It’s become a habit and Steve’s not sure if he’s annoyed or eager to see him. More strange is the comradeship that easily develops between Bucky and Tony. Steve thinks they’re both keen to get on with their mission. 

Sam’s back in D.C., but he texts Steve constantly. He’s been in touch with Natasha and between them they’ve been going through the massive data dump to retrieve any and all relevant information regarding Hydra, including former and current potential locations, names, etc. It’s beyond overwhelming. 

Bucky is their best hope in scrounging them out, given he was their asset for decades. He has knowledge that is still locked away in his head and his frustration at not being able to access it is straining on his nerves. Steve’s as well.

“You can’t force it, Buck. It’ll come, like the other memories. We’ll go with what you do remember.”

But Bucky’s frustrations are prevalent and often taken out on Steve. There’s also a pile of logs outside that Bucky gravitates to, swinging an axe with brute force the only way to calm his fraying nerves. He always returns contrite, eyes downcast and full of regret. Steve always pulls him close, murmuring placating endearments in his ear. Then Steve takes him to bed.

It’s colder now, summer long gone, and this far north the snow is not far away. A fire crackles pleasantly in their room, blankets thrown aside, their bodies glistening with sweat and release. Steve threads his fingers through Bucky’s growing hair, watches as Bucky’s eyes close involuntarily. This is what he wants to see. This is how he wants to feel forever.

“I miss you,” he whispers and his voice catches. A frown mars Bucky’s face and his eyes latch onto Steve’s.

“I’m right here.”

“For now.” Steve doesn’t tell him that in the morning Bucky will go back to preparing for battle, Steve’s glances and touches long forgotten. He doesn’t want to sound desperate. But Bucky’s sharp gaze latches onto the unspoken threads all the same.

“We’re doing this together, Steve. You said you wanted this. You want Hydra gone.” His voice has an accusatory hint to it and a pang of regret spikes through Steve.

“I do. Of course I do. But it just feels like it’s consuming you. Night and day. You barely sleep, you hardly eat. You’re not really living, Buck. It’s like you’re merely existing only for one purpose right now. I want to help you. After what they did to you I want them all dead. But I can’t concentrate on that when you’re slipping away, Buck. You’re more important.”

“You don’t think I want to just relax and enjoy my time here? Jesus, Steve, it’s all I’ve ever wanted. But I can’t just pretend Hydra didn’t just try to kill me again- kill _you_. I can’t grow complacent, not yet. Not until this is all over. But I need you by my side, Steve. I can’t do this without you.”

Steve doesn’t bother to mention to Bucky that he seems to be doing just fine with Tony by his side, constantly going over all the details, bantering, conferencing remotely. It wouldn’t do any good at this point. He grabs Bucky’s flesh hand, threading their fingers together. 

“I’m always by your side, Buck.”

***

The audible echo of gun shots linger in the air, Steve’s eyes making out the dark form through the kitchen window. Bucky’s been practicing all morning, not that he needs it. They’re miles away from civilization so he’s not concerned about the noise. Steve watches him, fascinated as usual. 

Steve was never one for guns, finding them impersonal and sometimes inaccurate. But he doesn’t have Bucky’s gift. He would put the best snipers to shame. Bucky’s not bad with hand to hand combat as well, remembering his few near death experiences at the hand of his lover. Bucky is essentially a pre-programmed killing machine and the thought should put Steve at ease with their upcoming war on Hydra but it still makes him uneasy. The stakes have changed now.

The back door bangs open and Bucky wanders in, wool hat pulled down low over his forehead. Steve smiles fondly. Bucky hands Steve his gun like it’s a perfectly commonplace thing to do, and announces he’s taking a drive to the market.

“Want me to grab you something?”

“Tony’s coming and he already stated he’s staying for dinner so maybe some red meat. And wine. And cheese? Dessert?”

Bucky smirks at him and his heart clenches like it always does when it’s directed at him. “I’ll be a while, text me if you think of anything else,” and he surprises Steve by snatching a kiss. His lips still tingle as Bucky walks back outside. He feels lighter than he’s felt in weeks.

***

Tony arrives, touching down with a hard thud and Steve greets him outside. They shake hands and go inside before Tony removes the suit. Steve’s actually glad to see him. It’s been almost a week since his last visit and he’s so used to seeing Tony here he was starting to wonder if Tony was bored already.

Steve grabs the knife he was using to chop up some veggies to go with whatever Bucky brings home for dinner. “Grab a drink if you want, Tony. Bucky’s just at the market but it’s not exactly around the corner over here. I know you were complaining about the lack of heat last time so I made sure to put extra logs in the fire,” he jokes and glances at Tony, who is studiously avoiding Steve’s glances. He pauses mid-chop.

“You ok, Tony? You’re a bit more...subdued than you normally are.” He tries again for light-hearted but Tony’s just staring out the window, body rigid and tense. Steve’s heart beats a bit faster, wondering about Tony’s cool demeanor.

“Were you ever gonna tell me?” Tony’s voice clips through the air, and Steve’s stomach drops. He can’t form words to respond and Tony takes the silence as an answer and finally turns to face Steve.

“Was _he_? I mean, I get it, not really a great conversation starter and all, but some sort of prior warning would have been nice. We’ve only been sharing the same space for_ weeks.” _Tony’s eyes bore into Steve’s and he drops the knife he’s holding and braces against the counter.

“Tony,” he starts but it’s choked and the other man glares in disgust as he basically guesses all his answers in Steve’s eyes.

“How could you keep something like that?” His voice is hushed but sharp and Steve’s heart squeezes in anguish. He has to say something. Has to fix this before Tony leaves or does something everyone will regret.

He licks his dry lips and goes around the island to stand in front of Tony. He’s larger than the other man in every regard but the way Tony’s looking at him has him feeling three feet tall. He hangs his head, allows a moment and resolutely meets Tony’s eyes.

“When Bucky told me, he wasn’t in a good place. He wasn’t even aware of the fact until I mentioned your name in passing. It was like a switch flicked on. That’s how his mind works now. One minute everything’s blank, everything’s a question mark. And then a word spoken without intent brings it all to the surface. You’ve seen him, Tony. You’ve spoken to him. You know it wasn’t him. You know what they made him do. What they turned him into.” His voice is pleading, desperate, but the dark gleam doesn’t leave Tony’s eyes. Steve’s heart races uncomfortably. He knows it’s not what Tony wants to hear.

He sighs. “It’s not an excuse for not telling you. He never asked me to keep it from you, that’s all on me, so if you want to blame someone, blame me. And if you’ve come here to harm Bucky in any way-”

Tony scoffs, eyes incredulous. “Harm him? How can I possibly harm him when he’s already been subjected to some of the worst acts of violence and terror I’ve ever known about.”

Steve blinks in confusion. “Then what…” he trails off, uncertain as he looks at a slightly more relaxed Tony. The older man sighs.

“Look. I’m not an idiot. There’s no punishment I can possibly dole out that’s worse than what’s inside his own mind. And what would be the point?” He leans back against a wall. “It won’t bring my parents back. It won’t change a goddamn thing.”

Steve takes a shuddered breath. “How did you find out?”

“JARVIS. I’ve had him going nonstop through the massive data dump for any pertinent information about potential Hydra locations. He found an encrypted video. I must’ve played it over a hundred times. If I close my eyes I can see every grainy detail. I can hear my mom’s soft pleas for mercy.” Tony swallows thickly. Steve looks down, his eyes welling.

“I’m so sorry, Tony. I know I can’t fix it; I know there’s nothing to be done, but whatever you want to do, then do it to me, not to Bucky. He’s a victim, too. And believe me, his penance is never done. I know Bucky and the anguish he holds on to. That’s never going away. He has to bear that guilt and responsibility. So I’m asking you to keep him out of this, please, Tony.”

Tony tilts his head, a curious expression blooming on his face. It takes a minute but a spark of realization finally hits, his lips parting slightly in surprise.

“So it really is true, isn’t it? I had my suspicions of course, but never really thought about it in earnest. But now. You. And Bucky?”

Steve stills, lifts his chin. Defiant, even in the face of danger. Tony’s lip quirks in acknowledgment and he nods his head sadly, then stuffs his hands inside his expensive jeans and slowly makes his way outside. Steve releases the breath he’s had pent up in a painful whoosh, his whole body demanding rest. After taking a moment to regain his thoughts and his strength, he follows Tony outside.

It’s cold and windy but Tony doesn’t seem to mind or notice as he stares up at the misty forest surrounding them. Steve stands by his side, not saying a word. Up ahead, the faint outline of a car makes its way quickly down the narrow drive. Steve glances at Tony in undisguised panic. 

As the older model Jeep makes its stop, Steve’s whole body is so tense he’s not sure what to even do. He sees Bucky swing out of the car, loads of bags in his hands. He’s still wearing the oversized wool hat, his bearded face just peeking out over the thick collar of his jacket. 

When Bucky spies them both standing there he throws a blinding smile at Tony, and Steve’s heart shatters again. He can’t get his limbs to move but Bucky’s suddenly right in front of him, cramming some bags into his hands.

“Hey, Tony, just get in? I found that wine you really like. One bottle left.” He throws him another grin, oblivious to the strained environment. 

“Hiya, Barnes. I always appreciate the thought, but I don’t drink and fly,” Tony winks with a tiny smile, and Steve nearly loses it, his vision going blurry. Thankfully Bucky’s too busy getting his purchases into the house to notice. Tony follows Bucky inside and after blinking the moisture from his eyes, he calmly goes indoors.

Bucky’s actually humming something underneath his breath, putting things away, when Tony lays a hand on his shoulder. Steve freezes, ready to do whatever he needs to do. 

“Come on Barnes, let’s let Steve make the dinner. We all know he loves cooking more than war talk.” He winks at Steve and it throws him off balance because it doesn’t look put on at all and Bucky’s softly grinning, latching onto Steve’s gaze, almost as if waiting for permission. Steve swallows and allows a smile, though it’s not as convincing as Tony’s because a crease forms on Bucky’s brow. But Tony’s already leading him away. Steve lets him. Bucky can take care of himself, he decides painfully. Tony’s not even wearing his suit. He takes a deep breath and starts on dinner.

Forty minutes later, dinner is ready and Tony and Bucky emerge, unscathed, from the other room. Tony eyes the food with interest but Bucky’s eyes are rimmed with red. He walks past Steve and heads upstairs. Steve’s about to follow but Tony stops him with a quick hand around his arm.

“He’s good, Cap. Just needs a minute.” Tony takes his plate to the dining table, grabbing the opened bottle of wine with his other hand. After a beat Steve grabs both his and Bucky’s plate and sets them on the table. Tony is pouring the wine when Bucky emerges, more composed.

“I’d like to propose a toast,” Tony announces, after he’s poured three glasses. Steve looks up in surprise, chances a glance at Bucky, who’s studiously avoiding his eyes. Slowly, Steve reaches for his wine glass, even as Tony has his already raised. After a beat, Bucky picks up his own glass.

“To new beginnings. To new alliances. And to kicking Hydra’s ass, once and for all.” He downs his whole glass, plops it down and proceeds to cut into his steak. Steve exchanges glances with Bucky and attempts to stomach his own cooking. Bucky toys with his food without taking a bite. 

“So Buckaroo, JARVIS picked up on some potential Hydra locations this morning. Maybe after dinner we can look them over and you can tell me if they ring a bell?”

Bucky looks at Tony unblinking, takes a deep sigh, and says “sure.” Steve can hardly wait for the evening to be over. 

***

Steve finds Bucky sitting on the edge of their bed, his whole body drooping with exhaustion. Tony had left after spending a few minutes with Bucky after dinner, talking logistics and new data. Or at least Tony did most of the talking. Bucky stood mute, nodding once in a while at appropriate intervals. Then Tony got a call from the Tower and had to fly off. 

Now Steve approaches Bucky almost warily, not wanting to rattle him even further. He sits on the opposite side of the bed. Bucky doesn’t acknowledge his existence. 

“What did Tony say to you?”

For a long while he thinks Bucky won’t answer him. He swallows hard, his head and heart aching. Bucky’s voice is low when he does speak.

“He told me he found the video. That he entertained the thought of coming here and tearing me to shreds, pulling me apart piece by piece.” There’s a mocking tone to his voice that makes Steve’s heart throb uncomfortably. 

“I’m so sorry Buck.”

Bucky runs a hand through his hair, once, twice. “When he told me there’d be no point because I’ve basically suffered more than any normal human being had suffered, I… I just- I couldn’t even look at him. I was ready. Whatever he wanted to do to me, I was ready. I deserve it. But. Tony just shrugged like he was over it. Like it was _fine_. Like it wasn’t even worth it.”

Steve sighs, the sound strangled and audible in the din of the room. “I think. Tony’s a smart guy, Buck. An ass most of the time. But he’s not an idiot. He’s perfectly aware of what was done to you. And he’s realized there are bigger battles to fight. Bigger monsters that need to go down. You were just a pawn, Buck. You were a victim, too. And Tony sees that.”

Bucky swerves his body towards Steve, his eyes red and turbulent. “But I _deserve_ it, Steve. I deserve his wrath. I deserve everything.”

Steve opens his mouth but nothing comes out. Bucky just shakes his head in disgust and stalks out of the room. Steve lays upon the bed and stares up at the ceiling, the fireplace crackling in the background.

***

Bucky never came to bed, nor does Steve find him in the house come morning. He’s not concerned because this is how Bucky deals with things. Steve values him enough to give him his space, unhappy as he is about everything. Steve showers and makes breakfast on autopilot, checks his messages and takes a look at the latest plans Tony brought over.

He looks over to the fireplace and notices it’s almost out of wood. Grabbing a hoodie he puts it on and goes outside to grab a few more logs from Bucky’s pile. He’s already got an armful when he notices Bucky casually walking up the drive. He has something in his arms. As Bucky gets closer Steve realizes with a frown that he’s carrying a cat.

Coat zipped up, wool hat on, thick gloves and rosy cheeks, Bucky looks at Steve, at the same time Steve glances down at the mangy orange animal encased in Bucky’s arms.

“Found him by the river. Nearly snatched one of my fish away.” He doesn’t ask anything mundane or obvious like _can we keep him_, no, Bucky proceeds to walk indoors with the cat, leaving a very bemused Steve outside, still holding onto a pile of logs.

When Steve heads inside, Bucky’s got the cat on the dining table, wiping him down with a towel. Steve says nothing as he throws more wood into the fireplace, stoking the flames, and warming his hands back up.

By the time he’s done, Bucky’s taken off his winter gear and is holding the purring cat to his chest. Steve walks over. 

“I’m going to call him Alpine,” Bucky states and flicks his eyes to Steve like he’s testing the waters out. A smile slowly spreads on Steve’s face as he lifts his hand to carefully pet the cat’s head.

“Alpine. I like it.”

***

The atmosphere is still morose but bearable, thanks to the newest addition to their household. The cat follows Bucky everywhere, whether it’s to the bathroom or outside, beside his feet under the table or even in their bed. Steve almost says something but doesn’t have the heart because Bucky’s somber mood is slowly evaporating. 

Nightmares still plague both of them, but Steve’s mostly concerned for Bucky. He hasn’t had any violent episodes since they’ve moved north, but his mood swings haven’t changed much. Steve is surprised it’s not worse. After all, Hydra did try to kill him just recently. He still wants to punch a wall every time he thinks about his burning home, the ash blowing in the breeze. Not knowing if Bucky was still inside.

Bucky’s still not getting enough sleep, but it’s better than it was so Steve doesn’t harp on it. Plus, he doesn’t feel like getting into a fight with him every time he does. He’s just used to it by now. This isn’t exactly the relaxed life he’d pictured when he envisioned running away. Now they were gearing up for a potentially endless battle. It makes his heart lurch unpleasantly.

Steve finds Bucky on the couch, Alpine curled up on his chest. Bucky’s eyes are on the tv but they’re not really focused. Steve plops down next to him. The cat blinks owlishly at the intrusion and goes back to sleep.

“Buck. We should talk.”

“We always talk, Steve.”

“No, I talk and you listen and then storm out.” Bucky sighs dramatically but turns his head towards Steve. His eyes are alert but cautious.

“Fine. Talk. I’m not going anywhere.”

Steve decides that the most direct approach is best. Bucky can smell bullshit from a mile away. He clears his throat, suddenly apprehensive. He folds his hands in his lap.

“I hate the thought of you going back out there. I know we all agreed to this but maybe Tony and I can….” he trails off because Bucky’s eyes narrow dangerously.

“I’m fine, Steve. I can fight. I don’t need to be babysat and left behind just because you think I’m unstable.”

“I never said that, Buck. You know I don’t think that. I know you’re perfectly capable of doing what needs to be done.”

“Then what is it, Steve? Because I’m not oblivious to your damning eyes boring into my head when you think I’m not aware. Because I am. So what is it really?”

Steve purses his lips, clearly not getting his point across. The pain in his chest escalates, pinching, throbbing. He looks down, hands still entwined.

“Bucky, I can’t lose you. The mere thought of losing you again makes me want to tear this whole thing down. We were supposed to get away from all that. We were supposed to have a life, not get dragged back into war. We were done with that. You were done with that.” He squeezes his hands together, his fingernails digging grooves into his palms. “If something happens to you…”

He can feel Bucky’s dark gaze on him, but he can’t meet his eyes, or he’ll lose it. It’s suddenly so tiring. What he feels for Bucky is beyond words, beyond reasoning. And it’s not something he can express at the moment, or ever probably. But he knows how he feels when he envisions his new life without Bucky. And the anxiety hasn’t gone away.

He feels a warm hand around his wrist, a gritty thumb rubbing firm circles across his flesh. He sighs, relishing the rare contact. 

“Steve. I don’t want to fight anymore. You’re right.” Bucky’s voice is low and barren, and Steve shuts his eyes against the sad sound. “But this is beyond us now. You and Tony alone can’t do this. It’s too big. I told you before. You have no idea what you’re up against. I might not remember it all, but I remember enough. 

“I can take you to where they’re hiding the other Super Soldiers in Siberia. I can lead you back to DC to the Hydra base masking as a bank, to Romania to where I trained new recruits, to the now vacant bases strewn around Europe. I want to help. I need to help, Steve. After everything I’ve done, this is _nothing_ for me, to help. We can do this together, you and I. Just like before. I watch your six, you do what you do best.”

Bucky squeezes Steve’s wrist, trying to get his attention. “But. I can’t do this without you. I don’t want to do this without you. And I’m ok, Steve. I know you think I’m not, but my head for once knows what it wants. I wouldn’t go out there if I wasn’t… stable enough. I’m ready for this. I just, need you on my side.”

The invisible fist slowly unfurls from Steve’s heart and breathing comes a bit easier. He turns to face Bucky. “I’m always on your side, Buck. I’m always here for you. ‘Til the end of the line. You don’t have to ask.”

Alpine jumps off Bucky’s lap before Bucky even makes a move. Unburdened, he reaches across the distance and cups Steve’s face before pulling him in. Their foreheads meet and Steve buries his hand in the back of Bucky’s neck, kneading the fragile flesh there desperately. He can feel the harsh breath ghosting across his face, Bucky’s close proximity frazzling his mind.

“Take me to bed, Buck.” No more encouragement is needed.

***

It’s easier after that. Steve feels lighter, more eager. He still gets anxious, and he worries constantly, but the sight of Bucky and Tony talking strategy doesn’t make his chest constrict as much, and the grenades on his dining table don’t distract him like before. He’s accepted this new fact of life, and clarity finally returns.

Sam comes over and they all converse, like grown ups without a single fist thrown. Steve makes dinner and everyone is cordial and engaging. And then they play poker and Tony wins but Bucky claims he definitely cheated, leaving the Billionaire indignant and appalled. All in all it was a great day.

Bucky’s taken to writing down everything he remembers, whether it’s significant or not. Locations, names, clients, cities. He still gets frustrated by the holes in his memories but Steve is astounded Bucky even remembers as much as he does. Tony is impressed as well and Steve surmises he gets his glee out of the potential damage he’s going to inflict on Hydra. He never forgets that Tony’s too embroiled in this all.

Steve sometimes asks Bucky about a certain memory from their past, and is always thrilled to see a spark of remembrance on Bucky’s face. And is sad to notice when it’s replaced by a blank look at another inquiry. “Doesn’t matter, Buck, it’ll come when it’s ready.” Bucky still has almost no memories from the war, and very little about when he was captured and operated on. Secretly, Steve is glad. Those are the type of images that can never be erased from your mind, once there.

Alpine is always there whenever Bucky’s mood sours, and they walk together to the river, Bucky holding onto his fishing pole, and they always return lighter, Bucky’s eyes warm with welcome for Steve, the cat not so anxious by his side.

At night they curl together, limbs entwined with no beginning or end, Steve latching onto Bucky with no intention of letting go. Bucky’s always there in the morning, which makes Steve happy beyond words. He knows Bucky’s appeasing Steve, but he doesn’t care. The effort alone makes Steve elated and comforted.

It’s getting close now. Plans have been finalized, all the details hashed out. Tony presents Bucky with some new tactical gear, custom fitted for him of course, and costing a fortune. “It’s bullet proof of course, fire proof up to 400 degrees, water insulated. Dry clean only,” he quips, and Bucky’s eyes crinkle. They share a look. Bucky gives him a nod in thanks and Tony is silently appreciative. 

Tony also supplies Steve with a new suit, more toned down in color, but still very much a Captain America suit. Steve thanks him, and pulls him in for a hug that surprises them both. Bucky and Sam look away and Steve feels the faintest clench of fingers on his back. He smiles into the hug and it’s over as quickly as it starts.

Sam also gets a full suit upgrade and he’s so excited he actually goes outside to test it all out. Tony eyes Bucky. “I uh, brought some of my tools here. Kinda wanted to tinker with the arm if that’s ok. Make sure it’s in tip top shape.” Bucky, still not overly thrilled about anyone toying with his arm finds himself nodding, despite the turmoil in his gut. It’s a testament to how far he’s come, putting his trust in Tony like that.

Long ago Tony promised he wouldn’t produce any more weapons of war and Bucky told Steve once he never wanted to fight again. Now Tony is making sure Bucky is in top shape for battle, in whatever form it may take. Steve watches as Tony carefully inspects the tiny workings of Bucky’s arm, still in awe of its construction. Tony was right. The arm might have once been created for one purpose only but Bucky is gonna make damn sure it’s on his terms now. 

Tony sits back, pleased. He nods once to Bucky and Steve observes the exchange with a lighter heart. Priorities have changed, for everybody. No one wants a war but payback is coming. Payback for Bucky. For Shield. For every life lost or damaged. Seventy years later Steve is prepared to go back into battle with Bucky. It feels the same but also very different. _They_ are different now. 

He wasn’t joking when he told Bucky he’ll take him, damaged or not. He wouldn’t be able to do this without him. And after Hydra is finally and permanently defeated, they have a new life here to work on. Some things might end, fade away with time. But the two of them, what they have, it’s more than a gift, it’s an opportunity that’s miraculous, impossible. Steve knows this. Understands the magnitude of it all. 

He smiles at Bucky from across the room and is rewarded with a blinding grin of his own. He’s ready. They’re ready. Time to kick some Hydra ass.

  
  


_End._


End file.
